Persian Empire
by BooksEqualsLife
Summary: This goes through the entire movie, but it has TONS of extra scenes written by me, and the ending will be much much different than the movie, so rest assured! Please review!
1. The Taking of Alamut

"Dastan, the Lion of Persia!" Sounds came from every direction as the youngest Prince walked through the crowds. People from all statuses were patting his strong back as he passed them.

The Prince smiled. He had disobeyed his brother's orders, and yet he was being praised for his actions. Perhaps if they had known the order that he been given to him, they would not be so kind towards him. But then again, he had done what no man had ever been able to do before. He had breached the East Gate of the Holy City of Alamut, giving he and his brothers a victory that was worth celebrating.

"Dastan." The Prince turned, facing the voice that he already had a match to. Bis, his best friend and soldier stood, his dark eyes shining with approval.

"Bis," Dastan replied with a courteous nod, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes.

"We have found the Princess. Tus is going to ask for her hand in marriage. You should come. Though she does not seem happy about the current predicament. Alamut has not been breached for centuries, and it is obvious that she will not be welcoming." Bis smiled slightly. "She is even fairer than it has been told. Tus is a lucky man."

"That is, if she agrees to marry him," Dastan said, his voice knowing. "As you pointed out, she is most likely not very happy with the current state of things. She may not want to marry a Prince who has taken over her city. If she has held it off for as long as she has, then it may be because she is wiser than we suspect her."

"Ah, my Prince. But it was you who took control over her city."

"Yes, but did Tus not say to attack the city?"

"This is true. But hurry! You are going to miss the proposal!" Bis grabbed Dastan, dragging him along through the crowd, not stopping once for the people who still congratulated Dastan and all of his achievements. "Will you stop dragging your feet? I don't want to miss this! She is feisty, and I cannot wait to see her spit in your brother's face!" Bis called over his shoulder.

Dastan laughed, but still made no attempt to move any faster through the oversized crowd of Persians. Even though the idea of a Princess spitting in his older brother's face was amusing, he just did not feel motivated. Something else plagued his shrewd mind.

He looked down at his belt. Tied tightly to his side was a dagger. It was a curious thing, not at all a common piece of weaponry. It was not at all sharp, and was made of a dark stone. On its blade were many engravings, the language unknown to Dastan. It was shaped like a typical dagger, but it seemed so much more important than that. The man that he had killed wore this. It seemed to be a prized possession, like he was its guard, its protector.

But it was the hilt that was the strangest. It was made with a dusty, clear glass. Golden vines twined themselves all the way around the artifact, reaching to the top. At the end of the hilt was a round red ruby, shining faintly when the light would touch it. Inside of the glass hilt, was sand. Ordinary sand that could not have cost more than a trip through the desert. It was not full, but it seemed that it could be.

"Dastan?" Bis's voice said. The youngest Prince looked up from the knife that still laid securely in his belt. Why was this piece of weaponry important?

"Sorry." Dastan picked up his pace, coming to his friend's side. The dagger could wait. "Where is she, the Princess?"

"In a Temple of some sorts. We are almost there." Bis walked expertly though the halls, already knowing in which room the fair Princess resided.

A loud sound of chatter abruptly hit Dastan. His brothers and their most trusted guards must have been cramped in the Temple, Garsiv most likely destroying the place.

Two guards stood by a large wooden door, their spears sharp and their dark eyes keen. They were clad not in Persian armor. They were the guards of the Princess.

They both gave Dastan a crude look. They already knew who he was, and what he had done to their sacred city. Somewhere in his heart, he felt guilt. Father had told his brothers and himself that attacking Alamut was not wise. It was a Holy City, and many people all over their country would not agree with the actions that had been conducted. Attacking Alamut had not been the wisest idea that Tus had ever thought of, and he felt worried for his brother. The reprimand that his Father would give them all would be difficult to take, but even more so for his brother. Tus had ordered the attack, and Garsiv and Dastan had just been following orders. He hoped that the punishment would not be too severe.

"Stand aside," Bis commanded, once more bringing Dastan from his thoughts.

"Filthy Persians, thinking that they own everything," one guard muttered under his breath, but stood aside. The other glared, for a moment refusing to make way for the Prince and his soldier. Bis challenged him with one look, moving his calloused palm to the hilt of his sword. The guard huffed, then stood aside, still glaring at Dastan.

"Thank-you," Dastan muttered, giving a small nod to each of them. Neither of them made a move; they stood resolutely in their places, glaring at the wall just ahead of them, their knuckles white from the grips on their spears.

Bis opened the wide door, the oil on its hinges preventing a creak coming from the ancient wood.

The chamber was filled with people, Persians and citizens of the conquered city. He knew that a Prince would belong at the front, getting a view of the entire chamber, however he stayed, not wanting to disrupt the conversation that was being transferred.

Tus stood at the front of the room, raised on several steps. He faced a young woman. Dastan guessed her to be the Princess, the robes and jewelry covering her, telling him of her position. Her hair reached past her tiny waist. It was dark and thick, soft waves flowing easily. Her eyes were partly masked as she was facing away from him, but he could see the golden paint that covered the lids of her eyes. Her skin was dark, darker than any Persian's; it had been kissed by the sun. Her dress was of cream and greatly contrasted against her skin color, and a long over coat covered her weak shoulders. Priceless jewelry hung from her ears, twinkling as she turned. Around her wrists and ankles were several golden bracelets, jingling when she moved. Even though Dastan could not see her face, there was not a doubt that she was one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen in his life.

The door closed softly behind him, and a fair few turned to see who entered. No one made a sound however. They quickly turned their attention back to the monarchs on the steps, waiting for the answer to Prince Tus's proposal.

"I would die first," her weak voice proclaimed. Although Dastan was at a great distance from the Princess of Alamut, he could tell that she glared at him.

She looked outward, towards the people surrounding her. She looked as if she was going to say something, no doubt a cruel speech towards the people of Persia. But then she saw something. Something had caught her eye. Dastan looked for the person who beheld the gaze of the Princess. Then he came to a sickening realization. She was looking at him.

Her eyes were dark, and her face lean. Her full red lips froze in their making of a snarl and only remained open. Why would the Princess be staring at him? Did she know who he was? Nay, that was impossible. She could not know him. Paintings of himself would be hung in her palace, and would most likely be burned if intercepted.

Dastan's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his composure. He would not falter under the intense gaze of one so beautiful. That would only give her strength, and she could not have that.

"That can be arranged," Tus said, bringing the Princess's gaze back to him. Tus made a small gesture to a guard who came up with a spear pointed at her throat. Dastan sighed. He loved his brother, but it was known that if Tus did not get his way, then things could be blown out of proportion. There was no need for the Princess to die. At least not yet.

Dastan was just about to stand up for her when a loud shriek came from her mouth. "Wait!" The guard froze in his movements, but did not lower the spear. She made another look at Dastan, this time with anxiousness written over her fair face. Dastan took a step forward, looking deeper at the Princess. He knew that she would be wise, but a monarch not knowing what she wanted was not quite right. A sudden change of heart must have taken her. Would this woman just be another item in his brother's collection of wives? Lord knew that Tus surely had enough by now.

She turned to look at Tus, his deep blue eyes waiting eagerly for a reply that would satisfy him. "Can you promise me that my people will be treated with mercy?" her composed voice questioned. Her rich eyebrows raised softly.

Tus grabbed her hand tightly, and he placed a fierce kiss on her hand in the means of a promise. The Persians around Dastan cheered; this was their ultimate victory. She turned her gaze back at Dastan, and he did not try to hide the surprised reaction.

His head cocked to the side, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. Why would she reconsider something that had sounded so concrete in her mind? And why did she look to him? Was he the deciding factor of her death? It was very confusing.

Dastan marched through the horde of people, eager to his brothers. At the sight of a royal tent, the young Prince found them.

"Ah! Dastan!" Tus yelled, beckoning his little brother over. "Do you hear what they are calling you? The Lion of Persia! You never did follow orders well…" he trailed off.

"Tus, I have some explaining to do," Dastan began. He never did like disappointing his brothers, even though he was not physically related to them.

"No! We have some celebrating to do!" Tus said, raising a glass of wine in honor of him. "But, since you led the first assault, you owe me a gift, a homage." Tus grabbed the hilt of the knife at his belt, admiring the craftsmanship of the dagger.

"He gave you Alamut and the Princess, I think that is homage enough," another voice said. Dastan's uncle, Nizam walked in between the brothers, holding a large piece of parchment. Tus's mind was quickly occupied and Dastan took the dagger gently away from his brother, placing it back in his belt.

* * *

The pondering thought of the Princess, (who he soon found had a name other than that which was bestowed upon her), was gone. Her name was Tamina.

He no longer thought about such things as Princesses. His mind was blissful as he downed another glass of alcohol. Everything he saw seemed hilarious, and he could not control the non stop flow of laughter coming from himself.

"Dastan! Walk on the wall! Show us!" his soldiers yelled, also unhealthily intoxicated.

But, since the mind of the Prince was weakened by his overindulgence, he could not resist but show his troops his inhuman abilities, as they liked to call them.

Dastan stood a good distance from the wall, kicking his foot back against the hot sand, like a bull when ready to charge. He ran at full speed, stumbling several times on his own feet, and ran against the wall. After the second step, he lost his footing and gravity pulled him back down to the dusty road. The air was knocked out of him, and all he could hear was the mad laughter of his troops, holding their glasses tightly, looking down at their fallen Prince.

"The third step's the hardest," he said loudly. His voice was obnoxious and free, like he had no care in the world whatsoever.

Dastan looked up from the road, meeting the smiling gaze of his eldest brother. Tus took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Brother!" Dastan yelled, sounding so surprised.

"What?" was all that Bis could say. A look of confusion swept past his face, and then he returned to drinking and laughing with the soldiers.

"Oh," Dastan said, turning back to his brother. "It has been momentarily misplaced, but don't you worry. I shall find it." Dastan turned back, ready to give another shot at climbing up the stone wall. His brother, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close, nearly pulling Dastan down, but with a couple of determined swoons, he kept his footing.

"I figured that you would say as much," Tus said smiling. Dastan never really was any kind of proper. Tus ushered a man forward. He was holding a cloth box. Dastan looked down at the box with complete wonder etched on his fair face. "A Holy artifact, the robe of Alamut." Tus took the edges and pulled them apart, revealing a cream robe. It was beautiful.

"Father is expecting you," Tus said quietly. Then his attention was caught.

Dastan followed his gaze, seeing Princess Tamina as she gave a crude look to him and his brother.

"The Jewel of Alamut," he heard his brother say, his voice husky with lust.

"Do you suppose that you really need another wife, Tus?" Dastan asked. Tus had several wives, and though Dastan knew that it was customary for monarchs to have so many, he did not like it. He always thought that a man, no matter his status, should find the_ one_. That one person who you would want to spend the rest of your life with. Multiple wives was not something that would be joyous to the mind of the Lord, no matter what Tus and Garsiv thought.

"Listen to me! Marryying her will assure her loyalty to Persia. Unbound to her would be a liability that I am not willing to risk!" Tus looked hard at Dastan, daring him to fight him. He added in a softer tone, "I am going to ask Father for his approval. If he does not agree, I want her to be killed by your own hand. Do you understand, Dastan?"

Though Dastan knew that that was even more wrong, he nodded. He only hoped that his father would agree so that the blood of one so pure would not be spilt.


	2. Meeting the Princess

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, or _most _of the actions that take place. I only am working at Dastan's mind here in this chapter.

**Alright, so here I am, the author. Now, I am sure that most fanfiction addicts, (like myself), have been told time and time again that reviews make the world go round. So far, I have only gotten two reviews, thank you very much Fallingslowly and tite-lilith *hands over large plate of cookies*. I have gotten several alerts and a couple of favs, but that does not compensate for the wonderful review! In one day, I have had one hundred people read this story, and only two of you have reviewed! This simply will not do! I apologize for those of you who like my story and are eager to read it (if there are any). But without reviews, I have NO motivation whatsoever. So come on people! I KNOW that you can review! Tell me what you think so that the story can continue! Like I said, without reviews, you will have LONG gaps in between updates!**

**Now moving on to another matter of business: the actual story. I am going to try my hardest to make this story as accurate as possible to the movie. However, since I have only been priviledged to see the movie twice, the scenes may be a bit iffy. Expect to have some scenes not _exactly _identical to the movie version. But just know that it is still there, just reworded a bit. Just so you know, some of them are going to be on purpose, but it is fanFICTION, right? If I make a mistake somewhere along the line (and I will), I expect someone to tell me how it goes, just for my own personal benefit. It will help for when I make more fanfics about this. And guess how you would tell me how it goes? That's right! Reviews! And please add something more than just a "this is how it goes" kind of thing. I really want you guys to like my story, so I got to know how my peeps are seeing it! **

**So, without further to do, I present the next chapter, and I expect to see some reviews!**

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Dastan walked stealthily in the halls, gathering up a small group of soldiers along the way. The Princess would not be happy, but it wasn't really for her to decide. These were his brother's orders, and Dastan did not have the heart to turn him down. He just hoped that the Princess would cooperate, and that Father would bless their marriage.

The youngest Prince of Persia did not mind killing, just as long as it was just. However, he hated having to kill women. There was nothing good about killing a woman. In this case, killing the Princess would not only be a murder of a woman and Princess, but it would be unjust. Still, there was nothing that Dastan could do about it. And in some sense, he saw Tus's point. She was a liability. It was obvious that she was a good ruler and had no intentions of being played. Past her young face, wisdom resided.

If Alamut was sending weapons to Persia's enemies, then there was much sense in what Tus was doing. But Garsiv had told him that the Princess doubted any weaponry being sent. The Princess said that supposedly, there were no forgers in Alamut. That excuse made sense, but still did not prove them innocent.

Alamut was a Holy City, no doubt to everyone that lived inside its borders, but that did not mean that they had no reason to go defenseless. That was idiocy! Even the holiest of places were under danger, and they probably would be for the rest of the world's years! Surely a monarch who was intelligent would realize this! If she did not, well, then perhaps she was not as smart as some made her out to be.

"What are we doing, my Prince?" a soldier questioned, bringing Dastan from his thoughts. All of them looked at him quizzically. He had forgotten to tell them what they were doing!

"We are waiting for the Princess, of course. She is royalty after all, is she not?" he asked them cheekily, raising a fine eyebrow. Many of the soldiers, he could tell, fought back a chuckle or a smile. Others, who were not so quick, still gave him a look of confusion.

"I suppose," some mumbled. They looked down at their feet, apparently embarrassed for not fully understanding.

"And what do we with royalty?" Dastan asked, trying to get his slower troops to understand.

"We...dote upon them, Sir?" someone asked. Dastan nearly put his hand to his head in distress.

"We _escort _them!" the Prince said, almost loosing his happy demeanor. "Stand off to the sides now, and when the Princess comes through that door." He pointed. "Close in around her. Understand?" He waited to make sure that everyone understood him. It was an unfortunate event, but some of the Persians were just meant for battle. Not many were equipped with the type of mind that was needed to run a country - an expanding country at that.

A look of wonder and understanding swept over their dark features, and Dastan yet again felt as if he was going to bury his face in his hands and either cry to death or laugh to death at their stupidity.

The soldiers quickly took positions, stumbling along themselves several times. Dastan had always felt sometimes that his people were incompetent, but he tried desperately not let it bother him. But there were times, oh there were times of pure distress.

Dastan turned to the window, letting the Persians behind him scuffle about, trying to get in a proper formation. By the sounds of it, it wasn't going well, and the Princess would be arriving at any time. Another minute passed by, and the hall was quiet, waiting for the entry of the Princess.

Another minute passed, and the grand, ornate doors opened, a very flustered Princess walking though them. She took one quick surveillance of the small hall. Her eyes must have caught the lurking Persians, for she tried to walk through their trap. They were in the army for their strength, agility, and speed. And they did not disappoint. They closed quickly around her, making an impenetrable blockade.

The Prince came out from behind a stone pillar, looking at her with a smirk, showing all of the smugness in the world. Her eyes widened slightly, then regained composure, making a glare with her painted eyes. It was obvious that she knew how to mask her feelings. Dastan did not appreciate that at all. It made things much more complicated. It wasn't that he could not see right through her, it was just an obstacle that he had really hoped would not present itself.

"So, I am to be escorted by the Lion of Persia," she snarled, avoiding his gaze, as he moved into her view.

Dastan walked to the front, bringing the enclosure forward. The words she said bothered him not. "Nice to meet you too, Princess," he said courteously, being completely sincere.

"Don't try to be nice with me! I know how your kind are, Prince!" she said. Dastan rapidly turned around, bringing the small company to a stand still.

He was a relatively calm man, and did not have an over sized temper, like Garsiv did. But of course, there were those times when there was something that he firmly believed to be true. And at those particular times, the only thing that he saw best to do, was to voice his opinion on the matter, whether his family agreed or not.

But there was one thing that he absolutely did not tolerate. He would never have someone, no matter who there were, no matter what gender, or their social status tell them that he was a spoiled brat of a Prince.

He had not been born in a palace like some uninformed people thought. He had been a street rat, scrambling for food when he could. He had lost his parents at a young age. He still remembered that day well enough. It was burned in his memory, and even though the Persian soldiers that he knew now where not them, it still hurt to know that it had_ been_ one of them.

_A scrawny boy, no older than five years old ran by. His hair was a light brown, and glowed in heat of the summer sun. _

_A young Dastan scrambled past, searching for his mother. He travelled on the roof tops, hoping to just catch a glimpse of her. He found her a moment later, standing with his father. They were buying goods, most likely for the night's meal. _

_Dastan found a way down and began running for his mother. She had always told him that the city was a dangerous place for someone his age. He had never paid much heed to that; he knew that he would be able to survive well on his own if he really needed to. He just didn't know that that time would be approaching as fast as it did. _

The Lion of Persia looked down, the image of his family beinig slaughtered just before his eyes was terrible. But there were other times to greive for the family that he barely knew. The King was his father - the only father that he had ever known. And Tus and Garsiv were his brothers. His biological mother had never had more than one child. He remembered her distinctly saying that they would not be able to afford another mouth in the family when he had asked. Lord knew that his parents had barely been able to afford there one and only son.

Remembering the too curious Princess, he turned slightly, waving a finger in the air. "Don't think that you know me, Princess," he told her, trying to be as cordial as possible. There was no way that she could know his past, and her insult had unknowingly dug itself deeper than she had expected.

"Oh really? Well, that is rich coming from the man who overran my city!" she shouted back. There was no doubt in Dastan's mind that she had been used to getting her way and that most of her loyal subjects had never dared to contradict her. Well, the Persians did not know of this tradition, so she would be in for a rude awakening.

At this point, Dastan found himself incredibly annoyed. For one so beautiful, she had many irritable quirks. Maybe killing her would not be as difficult as he once thought.

He turned fully around, facing her. The men standing in formation did not flinch once. "I would suggest a bit of humor when you are presented to the king," he told her. Again, he tried to keep his voice as carefree as possible. She gave a little huff, clearly not satisfied with the outcome. She glared after Dastan as he went into the chamber.

He found his father sitting on a throne, speaking gallantly to the people around him, bringing out a few laughs every now and again.

"Dastan! My son!" he heard his father proclaim. Dastan walked hastily to him, embracing him. His father was such a wonderful man, and it was every day that Dastan thanked God for the blessings that had been given to him. He went from a boy, without a family, living on the streets, to a man who was respected. He was a man who had a family, and what a wonderful family it was! He became a Prince of Persia! It was something that many people marvelled at - the transformation from one so low and dirty, to one so loved by the people he helped rule over.

His family. What a wonderful realization it was!

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**Alright, I have done my part. I have created another chapter for those who are willing to update. Now, please do your part, and review. I cannot tell you how excited I get when I see that I have a review in my inbox. And when I see those blessed comments, it makes me want to write more. I tell you, it is not a very hard concept to grasp. Please review! Tell me what you think so that I can make it better for the both of us! **


	3. A Great Loss

**Hey everyone! Okay, so I have some good news and some bad news. First off, I would like to say thank you to those people who have reviewed. And it is for them I have decided to update. They are what keep me going. However, I still haven't reached twenty reviews! This is frustrating because I see that you guys are liking it, I check my hits and visitors on the hour pretty much. And I would like to update quicker, but it doesn't seem as if it is in any type of demand. So because of that, I take my time, thinking that not many of you care that much. This is sad because there are reviewers that do care, and I don't want to disappoint them. **

**So please review! And don't be that kind of person thinking that someone else will pick up the slack for you. Because if all of you think that way (and you have), I don't get any reviews at all (and I haven't). I honestly don't care if I get the same feedback from all of you, just the fact that you are reviewing is enough for me. **

**Since Chapter 2, my reviews have doubled, but they are by no means ideal. I like seeing a whole bunch of reviews. They make me happy. And I think that we can all safely say that we all like it when out author is happy, do we not? **

**I expect to see a surplus of reviews from all of you when I get on. You will get your chapters faster, and then everyone is happy. This is not a one way street here, you have to understand that. **

**So, for those of you who have, this chapter is for you. We get to get a better look at Princess Tamina and her thoughts, so brace yourself! :)**

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Tamina stood, just before a chamber filled with raving idiots, as they talked, most likely with mugs of alcohol in their hands.

The men around her were not much better. All they would do was stare at her when they though that she was not looking. Most of them probably saw her as an object, something that could be put to good use. Foreign men typically thought as much. She was a fair looking woman, and she had often been noticed by several of her piers. It disturbed her to no end. She knew that she was an intellectual, that she should not be underestimated by anyone. But if someone were to see her as the wrong type of person, then it would be disastrous on their parts.

The Princess sighed. Her mother had told her time and time again that all men were idiots. That none of them had any clue what they were doing, except when they had a sharp object in there hands or a woman to look at. Her mother was right. All men were the same, and all had the same weaknesses: power, money, and beauty. Their only strength was just that - strength.

Men. It was a disgusting word.

However, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that men were not needed, she knew that that was not true. There were times when they would have a stroke of genius, few, but they would occur. And she knew that they were were loyal creatures, especially where their country was concerned. Alamut's men had never once hesitated when it came to protecting their city. But Tamina had never left Alamut. Who was to say that the invading Persians would do the same where Persia was concerned?

Alamut's men had a purpose. But when these Persian rats had trampled in, they destroyed everything that her people had worked so hard for. They destroyed their purpose. There was no mercy shown in the eyes of a Persian. They were all heartless, and cared not about the people that they would conquer. They would most likely steal anything of any value, then flee with it, leaving Alamut in shambles. Or they would export all of their sacred things to Persia's capital, only the ruler of Alamut keeping some for his own. Prince Tus would be in command of her city, making orders that would not benefit it at all. Tus knew nothing of her city. And he would sit in ignorance, ruling over a city that would come to no longer exist on a map, passing out of even the residents' thoughts and memories. The Holy City of Alamut would become nothing.

The Princes all believed that Alamut was hiding weapons, sending them out occasionally to Persia's enemies. Clearly, they did not grasp the fact that Alamut was a _holy _city. They had no reason to even forge weapons. Once they had made enough for their miniscule army, they shut down the forgeries. They had no need for them anymore. Though, now that they had been attacked just because of a unlikely hunch, Tamina was not sure if reopening the forgeries was such a rotten idea. Those weapons would be simple to make, and maybe they export them out of her city. Or perhaps, they would use them, themselves. The Gods knew that these territorial Persians needed to be exterminated. Nothing good could come from them. They did not deserve mercy, not even the ones that were just following orders.

No. No, she could not get ahead of herself. As wonderful as the idea was, there was one thing that would prevent her from ever getting the forgeries started once more. One thing that she could not control the outcome of. The one thing that made her feel more insecure than she ever had in his short lifetime.

Marriage.

The word was worse than _men. _It burned in her mouth, just at the thought of saying it. It physically hurt her every time the word was spoken, or even thought of.

She was to marry one of those Persians, so high and mighty on their golden thrones. And even though men could be nothing but bodies at times, the Princes would refuse to let Tamina out of their sight; that was certain. They were clever; it was the wicked truth, and there wasn't anything that she could say or do to change that fact. The older ones apparently had several wives, so they knew how to keep them under control, kept locked away in cages, forcing them into a mad state of mind.

Those poor women. Being treated probably like a patch of dirt. She did not want that life. She liked being free, excersising her freedom regularly. Being married to Prince Tus, would take those priviledges away. He would take everything away from her. Her people, her treasures, even her religion would be banned, and that was the worst part of it all.

She would rather die first. Just like she would ratther die first when the option of marrying Tus arose. She liked life better without the authority of a man commanding her every step.

As much as she liked the idea of dying first, she knew that that was not an option that could be taken seriously. It never would be, much to her sadness. She had one job - one job that was far moe important than all of her others as royalty. She had to protect _it _- keep it out of the wrong hands. And it was unfortunate, but she would not be able to do that if she was deceased. Even though there were others that would take her position, less experienced people tended to not stress over their job, which made them a risk. A risk that she was not willing to take.

"Your Highness?" she heard. She looked up from the marble floor, meeting the eyes of a curly haired Persian. Even just looking at a Persian made her feel ill. There was nothing princely about what his leaders had done. The man did not seem to care. Prince Dastan had given him a job to conduct, and that was all that mattered to him. Following the orders of those who were violent and unjust.

Tamina regained her composure, looking at the man, trying to hold back the distaste that she felt rise in her mouth. "What?" she snapped, then held back her tongue. "Yes?" she tried. Even though she vowed to herself to hate all Persians, this man could not have been responsible for her perished city. That did not mean that she had to like him. Any Persian was hated by her, and that was never going to change.

"The King wishes for your presence. I am to escort you into the chamber. The King will either accept or decline the marriage proposal. I suggest that you do not speak. Insulting a King of his stature is not wise." He looked at her, then turned to the door, then looked back to her. He came up to her side, putting out a customary hand, allowing her to go first. She only stared at him blankly.

"What would make you think that I would insult him?" She tried to just appear curious, but she could not help the glare that burned him through her dark eyes. So stereotypical these Persians were.

He looked unsteady, as if he was not sure how to answer the question. His eyes travelled downwards, landing on the floor, and his cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit. "My lady, if I may?" He did not wait for her permission, so as to not loose confidence in his small confrontation. "My lady, you have insulted all three Princes and their uncle, Nizam. If you insult their father, they may take back their promise to be merciful to your people. They will reject the marriage, and they will most likely slaughter all of you. It is unecessary, but they will do as they see fit." It was obvious by the look on his face that he felt proud of himself for insulting her; his lighter eyes stared coldly into hers. They narrowed into slits, and glared, refusing to loose to a woman. "Hurry up!" He gave her a strong push in the back towards the chamber.

She was not surprised in the least when he did not open the door for her.

* * *

Dastan gestured to the man to let in Princess inside. He made a small nod and went outside to retrieve the Princess.

He turned to his father, admiring how kingly he looked with the cream robe wrapped around his shoulders. Thank the Lord for Tus! Without him, Dastan would have looked like a fool with no gift for his father. What a brilliant gift it was too! Getting somethinig for a man who already has everything is terribly difficult, but Alamut held just the thing.

When the crowd made a small gasp, and when his father's eyes widened slightly, he figured that the Princess had entered the room. He looked over his shoulder. If they only knew how irritating she was!

Nevertheless, he walked to her side, the guards around her moving away. He stood behind her, lowering his face to the side of hers. She didn't look at him, but he could see the twitch of her lips as she retained a grimace. "Father, this is Princess Tamina," he started. "Tus wishes to marry her, and it is my deepest wish that you should agree." Dastan left her side, walking across the ring of people. Bis smiled at him, nudging him.

"Ah, the jewel of Alamut," the King said kindly, admiring her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. "You're city is truly magnificent, Your Highness," he said. Dastan sighed. His father may have been a King, the same King who had conquered others' lands, but his father was a good man. There was never a woman who he did not treat with the utmost respect. Too bad the Princess would not like respect.

"You should have seen it before treacherous people descended upon it," she rudely snapped back at his father, not even giving him the decency of looking him directly in the eye. Dastan involuntarily growled under his breath. She would be wise not to insult his father, not in his presence, and certainly not in the presence of his other brothers.

"Clearly she will make a good queen," his father said, still trying to be polite with the witch. He turned back to Dastan. "Yes, she will make a good wife. But Tus and Garsiv already have several wives. Perhaps it is time that the youngest Prince take his first wife." Dastan's eyes widened with fear. Marry Tamina? He would rather die first. He cast an unsure glance at her, finding that her expression matched his - utter shock. "What do you say Dastan?" his father pried, waiting for an answer, and there would only be one answer that he would want to hear.

The youngest Prince stuttered several times, looking at his father with a plead written all over in his blue eyes. His father did not take the message.

"He takes an unbreachable city without a hint of fear in his eyes, and yet his crumbles to dust at the thought of marriage!" his father proclaimed, producing a laugh from everyone around, except from Dastan and Tamina.

Suddenly everything got quiet, and Dastan was brought away from his thoughts when he heard the yelp of his father. The robe that had been the gift sizzled, smoke emerging from the top in light billows. Many of the guards jumped forth, attempting to pull the cloak off of their king. Their only reward was sweltering hands, dotted with growing blisters and red skin.

Garsiv was next to act, pushing everyone around him out of his way. He bent over the King, reaching out with a brave hand to tear the cloak off. However, all of the other guards stepped forward, pulling him away from his father's dying body.

King Sharaham was lying on the ground dying as he made feeble attempts to save himself.

Dastan rushed over, kneeling before his father, worry ever present in his eyes. "Someone help him," he said, looking up to the people around him pleadingly. "Somebody help him!" he yelled weakly. His father was dying, and there was no one who wanted to help save the life of Persia's greatest king.

"Dastan gave him the cloak!" Garsiv screamed, pointing at his brother, who looked at him with pain. Surely his brother did not think that he was responsible? Dastan had had no family as a child, and the King was the only father that he ever knew! Without his father, Dastan would have died a long time ago, due to his own recklessness.

"Why?" his father said, then collapsing completely on the stone cold floor, his limbs making one last twitch of defiance. The King died then, his defenseless body shriveled and old from premature decay. Dastan shook his head furiously. He did not kill his father.

"Kill him! He murdered the King!" Garsiv yelled once more, trying to escape the hold of the several guards.

Dastan looked up at his brother, tempted to tell him that it was not he who killed their father. But Garsiv would not listen to that. There would be nothing that would stop Garsiv from killing Dastan.

He stood rapidly running to the window. He had to leave, even if it meant becoming an outlaw. He had to leave.

Bis jumped to his aid, trying to prevent Persian soldiers from getting at his favorite Prince. But the numbers were too great and Bis fell, a spear ejecting itself from Bis's chest.

"Bis!" Dastan screamed when he turned. Were all of his loved ones dying because of him?

With a sudden pull, he felt the hand of someone drag him to the window, making him jump down into the unknown. He heard the scream of a woman, and saw just before he plunged into cool waters, Tamina.

He stood up in the small pool rapidly, taking a quick look to be sure that it was she that he saw. It was. "What are you doing here?" he yelled at her, feeling no shame.

"You are going to need my help!" He gave her a small look. "Get a horse! Hurry! They are coming!" She pointed to a gathering of horses, tied to one pole by mere rope.

Dastan wasn't sure about the Princess and what help she could possibly give him. But without needing to be told twice, he hurried off, drawing his sword from its sheath. He cut the ropes for every horse, in hopes that they would scatter and not be catchable. He caught sight of his brother's horse, Askh. With one sswift movement he jumped on it, grabbing the reigns tightly. He had never been the best of riders, as he liked fighting from the ground, or the air.

He drove the horse forward, reaching out to the Princess who was waiting expectantly. They rode on, refusing to turn their heads for the slightest moment, in fear that they would see the entire Persian army released on them.

"Close the gate!" he heard. It was Garsiv. His own brother really thought that he would want to kill their father.

"Slide down," he commanded to the Princess, surprised that she understood what she meant. They held tightly to the horse, keeping their feet above the ground. They would not have been able to get through the gate otherwise.

"He stole my horse! He stole my horse!" Garsiv yelled once more, pointing after Dastan and Tamina. They were almost to the gate. But they needed to go faster, as it was closing every second. Askh must have realized the great deal of need, and pushed through, barely getting under the gate before it closed completely.

The Prince and Princess rose up on the saddle, both checking to make sure that they were not followed. A fraction of the Persian Empire was behind that gate, waiting for it to open, but that would take longer than closing it.

Dastan gave a shaky laugh, then pushed the stallion faster, away from the eyes of his family. In the course of one day, he had breached a castle and had been praised by the people he ruled over. Now, he was wanted for the murder of his own father, and he was with the Princess, no less. Whatever trouble he had been in before had been multiplied just by the fact that she was there. She would slow him down, but he could not leave her stranded in the desert. No. He would wait for civilization to do that.

* * *

**Alright there you go. This chapter is the longest one yet! Woot woot! Now, here comes your part of the story. You have to play your part or the storyline does not work. We all know this. **

**Tell me what you think. Tell me if you like having longer chapters or shorter chapters! Whatever you guys want, you can have. But I have one thing to ask for in return! Continuously review! Please! That is all I want. Don't think that someone will review for you, because they won't. **

**I really like reviews, but I like the reviewers a lot more. And I will respond. I always love it when my fav fanfic writers respond to my reviews, so I will respond to yours. I will listen to what you have to say, so please, please, please, please, PLEASE review. I will listen to what you have to say. I can be your own little phsychyatrist if you like, I don't care! Just make sure that you tell me what you think first, and then say whatever. **

**The next chapter, we are introduced to the Dagger, so tell me what you think I should do with that scene! :)**


	4. Royal Bickering

**Okay, here is the next chapter. Several people have wanted the longer ones, so I, of course made a longer chapter. For those of you who like the romance, well, then you should be golden right now. We have our first introduction to the romance here, and I am kinda excited to see how well I do on it. **

**I am not gonna talk to you guys about reviews, you guys have got the point. But they are still very much appreciated, and needed! **

**Please tell me how I did! And also, I am conducting a study to see who likes what. Review to tell me whether you want these chapters long or short, and I like explanations, because they make it easier for me. I could take a poll, but those aren't as fun as reviews!**

**Thanks, guys for the few reviews that I have gotten. They make me soooo happy. I cannot disclose my happy dance, but I can disclose my sheer joy. *discloses sheer joy***

**I can't wait to get some more reviews! But until then, here is your part of the bargain...**

* * *

The heat of the Persian sun beat down on the horse and riders as they rode on, too terrified to look back. The sun was hot, taking out all of the energy of the horse, and leaving the riders quite dehydrated.

"We should stop soon." Dastan paid no attention to the woman sitting just behind him. He wished her not to be there. The heat from her worn being felt like an oven against Dastan's back. Why did she have to come? What could she gain from leaving Alamut. Why wouldn't she want to stay with her people? Why would she want to follow him, becoming an outlaw, herself. There was only one thing that could have encouraged her to leave her city: the marriage.

But why would she worry about that? Dastan could tell that she did not welcome marriage, especially to one of his brothers. But she would have tolerated it. That was no reason to leave Alamut!

And then there was the situation dealing with his father. His beloved father. Dastan nearly screamed from the pain that twisted his heart. He did not kill his father. There would have been nothing that he could have gained from his father's death. Tus was in line for the throne after his father. Dastan was at the bottom. His uncle, Nizam, would probably become King before he would. Nizam did have royal blood in him, he was his father's brother!

Oh, Uncle Nizam! His uncle would believe him. His uncle would know what to do. He always had a wise solution for everything. But even his uncle would be lost in such a matter. There was a murder in their own family, and it was committed by one of thier own.

Tus had given him the cloak. Tus would have been hungry for power. Tus wanted the throne. Tus killed his father. Tus killed the only man that had ever shown Dastan an ounce of love. Tus was a murderer. And what was more, Dastan had trusted Tus. He had considered him like a real brother, like the brother that he never had. He had been a part of the family that he never had. By killing his father, Tus practically killed his youngest brother.

Dastan felt dead inside. Like nothing was worth anything anymore. His own family would accuse him, and that only made the matter worse.

He did not know how long he had been pondering the problem. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Time was no longer important. He just needed a refuge.

"We need to rest." He heard once more. Just by the dreariness of her voice prooved that she was drained. He did not understand why, but then she was a woman. And women did not have the strength to press through when speed was manditory. And she was a Princess no less, not used to the ordinary scorching weather that seeped into his lungs.

"No," he said curtly. "We need to get as far away from Alamut as possible. My brother is after me - us now that you decided to throw your life away to accompany me."

"Are we not as far away from Alamut as possible? I am sure that the horse wishes to rest. You should rest as well." Dastan turned his head slightly, shocked by what she had to say to him.

"I would never imagine that you would be the one to care about my health, Princess." He gave her a look, trying to analyze what exactly she was up to. It still did not make sense why she would abandon her duties as a leader of a city that had just been conquered. It was obvious that she had never intended for it to be conquered. But why would she leave it in the hands of people that she could not trust? Why would she trust a Persian? There was no logic behind any of her actions. She was a very confusing creature, and it pained him that she had forced herself to be dragged with him. She had made herself more of a liabilty now that she had run away with the supposed murderer of a King.

"Don't flatter yourself. I simply trying to get you to stop! Look at this poor animal! He looks as if he is going to drop with exhaustion! You haven't let him even walk since we left the palace. And that was several hours ago!" she shouted at him.

"This is my brother's horse. He was made for long distances. But of course, a Princess who has never left the shelter of her home would not know that. Most horses are bred for this purpose! You underestimate a horse, and you underestimate its rider. Is there anything you can't do to insult royalty today, Your Majesty?" he asked presumably. He did slow Askh to a trot, hearing the animal pant, and the muscles working under him.

She sneered. "Please. We have gone on long enough. There is no way that your brothers could find you. We are stranded in the desert!" she looked at him, glaring for a moment. Her features then softened slightly, pleading with him. "We need to rest. Make a camp for the night at least!"

"Let us go on for a little bit longer, Princess. We can go to a walk now." He turned slightly, arching his eyebrows, waiting for her next attack.

"Persians. They do not care for the people that they conquer. I could very well die out here because of your negligence! You may not need to rest, but I need to get off of this wretched saddle. I am done riding!"

Without missing a beat, the Prince responded, "Well then feel free to jump off and walk. It is like you so kindly pointed out. I am a Persian. And I do not care. Stretch your legs. Feel the hot sand beneath your toes, if you must! Just shut up! I am done listening to your complaining." He gave her a small push. She gasped in alarm, and was thus, angered further.

"Complaining? I have said nothing this entire _escapade!_ And when I do care to share my thoughts -"

"Or scream them at me in a demanding tone," he added with a small smirk.

She glared once more, continuing. "And when I do care to _share _my thoughts, I am shot down, told to fend for myself. How could anyone be so cruel? To not spare a lady a drop of water or a resting place for the night? You are a despicable man, and you should be ashamed of yourself."

"How can anyone be so loud? That is the proper question, Princess. I swear that my brother must hear you over every desert there ever was!" he shouted back. "And where is this precious droplet of water that you speak of? Do you see a canteen anywhere on this horse? And if there was Princess, I can assure you that you would not be priviledged to drink it. The horse, like you said, must be tired and in need of a refreshment." He gestured to the horse who was still trying to catch his breath underneath him. "I would guess that there is just too much weight for the animal to carry. So, jump off like you threatened to do. It will do the horse a bit of good. And if you would like to run away, you cannot expect me to stop you. I would be gald to be rid of you. I do not need this kind of racket every way I turn!" Dastan was so frustrated! This woman would not leave him be for just one moment. Did she not know that he had other things to think about? Things that were much more important that she was?

The Prince jumped off of the horse, grabbing the reigns tightly in his hand. The last thing that he needed was an annoying Princess running away on his brother's horse.

By some miracle, she stayed quiet. Either she did not wish to argue any longer, or she just did not have a good response to what he had said to her. Judging her, he figured that she liked to argue. Well, so did he.

A moment passed by, the air still and quiet. All that could be heard was the occasional huff from the horse as he would shale his mane. He heard the Princess drop, and when he looked back at the saddle, he saw her walking behind him.

"How helpful to the horse," he said softly.

"The horse is the only thing that deserves any help," she said smugly.

"We will stop at nightfall, so collect some wood when you see it," he said, picking up a piece, seeing if it was firewood material.

"If you expect me to take orders from you -"

"The sooner enough wood is collected, the sooner we rest. It is an easy concept, so I am sure that you won't have too many difficulties processing that, Princess. Don't make things more complicated."

The day continued, the heat of the sun, eventually washing both of them down, so when the sun traversed down, hiding behind the sandy hills, both travellers felt sheer joy.

"Princess, I believe that we are finally able to take that rest that you were so eager for," Dastan said with a small smile. Truthfully, he had been grateful for the night.

"Oh? Are you sure that we do not need to travel to the sea?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. The silence for the remainder of the day must have put them both in a better mood. Silence. It was a wonderful thing, especially when you were accompanied by a Princess that talked more than she thought.

"We shall save that journey for the morning, Princess. I intend to sell you to whoever offers me a price first." He added a lop-sided smile, looking her way. Dastan walked up to her, taking the few logs of firewood that she had gathered.

"How Princely," she commented, settling down on the ground, while he situated the wood. "The smoke is going to alert your brother where we are, you know." She gestured to the wood. Dastan had already been trying to make a small spart with two stones. He looked up at her, nodding after a moment and then returning to his work. "And you are going to allow that?"

"He was far behind, most likely in a different direction. If he is lucky enough to get here before the smoke signal goes out, it still won't matter. We will have been gone for more than severeal hours by that point. And distinguishing smoke from a pitch black sky is difficult if you do not have the glow the the fire showing you. Plus, he won't know in what direction to look for the smoke." Just a second later, the wood blared to life, giving a lovely glow.

She gazed at him. "How do we know that he hasn't followed our tracks?" She raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"We don't. But in the dead of night, seeing tracks is going to be difficult. They will stop where they are, just like we have. We will just leave early to compensate." Dastan walked over to the horse, taking off all of the luggage that had remained on Askh when they left. There was a small tent, just for when an unexpecting sandstorm would blow over. Some spare food, but no water. There were canteens for when water was found, but a canteen was not going to save them from dehydration. Nothing could save them.

"You didn't seem troubled an hour ago, when there was still light," the Princess proclaimed. He looked at her from the curtain of his bangs. So she had seen his sudden change in mood.

He kicked a piece of firewood. "I didn't kill my father," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. There was no reason to shy away from her, but he just did not feel entirely comfortable talking about this subject with a woman who would gladly kill him if he could. But he needed to talk to someone about what had happened that day.

She stayed silent. And he was grateful for that. Talking about the murder of his father with her... It just asked for trouble. All that would come from it would be yelling. And conversation with Princess Tamina would most likely end up that way.

"I didn't kill my father," he repeated, making sure that he kept himself reassured. He knew that he had not killed his father, but the fact that his father had died from a gift that he had given him... It was astounding! How much everything could change in just one day! That morning, he had been raiding Alamut, breaking his brother's orders. "Tus gave me the robe," he continued, the words like thorns in his throat and mouth. "He wanted power. He poisoned the robe and gave it to me to give to my father." The thought itself stung him. The idea of his brother being power hungry enough to kill his own father was beyond him. Yesterday, he would have trusted his brother with his life. Now, he did not know what to think.

"I beleive you," Tamina said. She stood coming to his side. Her words shocked him. The one person he would not expect sympathy from gave it to him. And not just sympathy, but a confirmation of belief. The claim shocked him. He did not know what to think of it...

He looked at her as she moved closer. Was she...? Was she trying to kiss him? The whole picture did not seem right. Nothing was right. "My brother told me to kill you if he couldn't have you," he said warily, looking at the sword that still hung on the saddle bag.

She sighed slightly, trying to come to terms with herself, it seemed. "Well... Well the only solution would be to kiss me..." She inched closer, and he backed his head away slightly. "...and then kill me..." Just before she was going to close the gap between them, he felt a small tug on his belt. He looked down, seeing her dark hand enclosing on the hilt of the ornate dagger.

Astounded, he grabbed her hand, pushing it away from himself. He helt tight to the dagger, taking it out of the makeshift sheath of his belt. He held it out, threatningly. She turned rapidly to the horse, grabbing his sword.

The Princess made several badly aimed swings, tyring to kill him while he only back away, holding the dagger out. "What are you doing?" he yelled at her.

She paid no heed to his screams of confusion. She came forward more and more. With one loud battle cry, she lunged forward, trying to bring the sword down on his head. He put the dagger in front of him, defending himself from her attack. He clung to the small weapon tighter, pressing on the top of the glass hilt.

Everything around him changed. His arm grew rigid, the little lines symbolizing his veins turned to cracks, orange cracks like lava was going to ooze from them. His whole arm was engulfed in rock, and the sand from the ground blew up into his face twirling all around the Prince.

When he looked to the Princess for answers, or even for a drop of comfort that he was not going insane, his eyes widened to an enormous size. The world around was moving, as if it was going backwards. All that he saw, the Princess try to kill him, the Princess try to kiss him, it had already happened.

Dastan gave a curious look to the dagger, still unsure of it, and now quite wary of any of its demonic enchantments. It was powerful. But Dastan was not sure of the power that he had found.

With a strong shove of the wind, he was pushed back into his body, still quite shocked from the experience he had just gone through.

It was all the same. Tamina stood before him, just about to grab hold of the sword. But Dastan paid no attention to her. She grabbed the sword, and before he had the proper time to react, he felt a potent sting, splitting his entire chest. He looked to the ground, and he saw a small bead that had hung from a braided rope around his neck.

He stumbled backwards, but took out the dagger, looking at it closely. What if he pressed the jewel again? Would the same thing happen to him?

"Don't!" Tamina reached for him, trying to wrench the device from his hands, but in one abrupt moment, she froze. And everything went backwards again, ending him just before the Princess for the third time.

"Did you see that?" he whispered, a hint of fright hiding in his masculine voice.

"See what?" Tamina froze, looking at him closely, as if trying to analyze his every move and deciper all of his thoughts. She turned quickly, trying to get a hold of Dastan's sword.

"Go for that sword again, and I swear, I'll break your arm!" he caught hold of her arm tightly, looking at her in the eye, daring her to try to break free from his grip. That was impossible. Well, at least for her...

Her eyes widened further. "Again?" No. He could not have found out about the Sand. She would not have been that reckless. Oh, but as she stood there staring at him as he withdrew the precious Dagger, she knew that he had. He cautiously looked at her, then slowly released her arm.

He pressed the jewel, and she grew close to wanting to kill him. "You used up all the Sand!"

"What is this?" Tamina stood, refusing to say anything to give him an answer. "What is this?" he asked once more, holding it up for her to see, then backed away admiring the artifact.

She briefly looked away. "It is a dagger. Surely you must know that..."

"No, no! I pressed the jewel and everything rewound. This dagger turns back time, and only the holder of the dagger knows what happened!" he looked at her, and though she despised him, she felt pity for him, knowing what he was going to ask of her. He came up close to her once more. "How much can this hold? How far could I go back?" his eyes were hopeful.

"Even when the container is full, you are only given a minute," she said, avoiding his gaze. He would only make her feel uncomfortable. She could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, and she felt strange.

And he seemed to have a revelation. "You didn't have any weapons in Alamut, did you?" he looked at her, and she could practically see wheels turning in his mind, working to a conclusion that she had seen a hint of long before.

"In Alamut, I said that we didn't. In the middle of the desert, I still say that we had no weapons. You attacked needlessly."

"Tus knew that! Tus knew that there were no weapons! But he knew of this Dagger! He knew that it was special, and he knew that with it, he could become Persia's greatest King, even greater than my fahter!" Tus! His own brother had wanted to kill his father, just for the power that he would receive. And he was going to become even more terrifying if he got his hands on the Dagger.

"Then your brother cannot have it. You Persians are spoiled enough," she mumbled.

"I wonder if Garsiv knows. Do you suppose he knows?" Dastan looked curiously at her, just interested in what she would have to say.

"I _thankfully _don't know your brother. So I am not the person that you should go to for answers." Deciding that she was not going to be able to get the Dagger that night, she settled down, trying desperately to find a suitable position. In her city, her bed had been graced with thousands of feathers, and it was simply a delight to sleep on. But here, hot sand made her itch and squirm, and sleep would be impossible.

Dastan watched her for a moment, seeing all of her failing attempts to get comfortable in the sand. After five minutes, he could not stifle a chuckle. "Having any difficulties, Princess?" She cast him a glare, and his eyebrows arched.

"I did not know that there was a specific way to sleep in the desert. Are you well acquainted with sand, Your Highness?"

_A small Dastan ran to his parents. It was dark, and his mother would worry. He cast one more glance at the friendly stars, and turned to head home._

_Taking the shortcut, he arrived home a moment later, his hair slightly disheveled from the rush to get home - for his mother's sake, of course. _

_Without knocking, he walked in, expecting to be ambushed by a worried mother, most likely punishing him for being out so late. _

_Instead, he found a piece of parchment lying haphazardly on the wooden table. _

_He didn't need to read it. He already knew what is was going to say. _

"Dastan?" he heard. That was the second time that day that he had been dragged into those thoughts.

"Go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, Princess." Finding her squirming on the ground enough, he walked to Askh, and untied one sleeping roll. He threw it to her, for he knew that she would complain about how sore her back was for the entire day, if she did not sleep properly. She looked at him quizzically, obviously unsure about the roll that he had thrown to her. "You unroll it and sleep on it," he said tiredly, lying down close to the fire.

"I know that. But shouldn't you use it?" She looked as if she was about to offer it to him for a moment. Then she pulled it back, unrolling it, and snuggling into the softness. No, it wasn't he beloved feather softness, but anything beat the unjust feeling of sand in her dress.

"I don't want to hear you complain. Go to sleep." He closed his eyes, hoping that by some miracle, everything was false. That he would wake up in Alamut, finding his father still alive and healthy, and his brother not the tyrant that he knew that he was. But he knew that that would not happen. A dream wasn't this detailed, he thought with plucky comic relief.

"Haven't we travelled enough today?" she asked, making him groan. She could not shut up for the life of her.

"My brother is not going to think that way. Please, if you want to stay behind and rest, you may. I would be faster without you," he told her annoyed. "Now, go to sleep!"

She gave him a look like she was about to tell him off, but with one glance through one cracked eye, he silenced her. She gave a small huff, and she closed her eyes, succumbing to sleep a few moments later.

Dastan rolled onto his back. Just two days ago, his life had been perfect. Everything had been right in the world, and he considered himself the luckiest man ever to walk on the face of the earth. But now, everything had been shattered, like a mirror. He had been framed by his own, perfect family, and his blessed father had died because of it. Nothing was right. Everything was wrong. Was there nothing that he could do to stop the madness from continuing?

He gingerly pulled out the Dagger, thinking about its powers. He would drag answers out of Tamina tomorrow, for now, he could only dream. Dreaming was the only thing that made sense.

And with that, Prince Dastan of Persia closed his eyes, waiting for the coming of dawn to steal away under the radar once more. But tomorrow, perhaps he would take more breaks, for his ears' own good, he thought before sinking into the peacefullness of sleep.

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**Wooh! Longest chapter ever, I say that that is worth a review! :) **

**I was hoping this chapter to kind of change things up a little bit. Like I have said in previous AN's, I don't want to go exactly by the movie. I will be following it for the most part, but there will be MANY scenes that were not in the movie. Most, you guessed it, will be the Dastan/Tamina stuff. This chapter was the first among them. Yes, there was the introduction to the Dagger, and that went by the movie, but everything else was pure fanfic. Yay! **

**And like I said WAY above, I am experimenting with you guys, so you gotta give me your feedback. Do we like these longer chapters like this one, or would we prefer those shorter ones, like chapters 1-3? The choice is completely up to you guys, but I gotta know what you think! I know, this may come as a shocker to some of you guys, but I am not one of those people who can read minds. Especially over long distances. So, tell me your thoughts, just via review! **

**And if you guys have any suggestions on how you want some scenes to play out, I will welcome those with open arms. This fic is for you guys! **


	5. An Act of Stupidity

**Hey guys! I am still dying on reviews here! One of my favorite writers actually said "The writer is the car and the reviews are the pretol". This is a most true statement, so please, do your part! Let us go forward in this story! We all want to!**

**And oh my goodness, you guys! I cannot even begin to fathom how to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Everything in my life has been terribly crazy and I have actually had to abandon all computer time to work and do other stuff. Go to a birthday party, Father's Day, babysitting for a neighbor, babysitting the sister, cleaning the house, going over to a friends house to bake a cake, throw a party for a friend, 4th of July weekend being thrust upon me, and having to make some incredibly painful good-byes to THREE of my best friends... Can you say FRANTIC! My goodness! So I am really really really sorry that I haven't been able to update, but I can promise that I will never be this late in an update ever again, if you want to try to look at the bright side of this terrible predicament. When your own fanfiction starts haunting you before you go to bed, you have a problem, I think... Haha...**

**Anyway, moving onto more a story theme here. Almost all of my reviewers are saying that they like the longer chapters, which I think is great, I like the longer chapters anyway! So, this chapter, hopefully is the right length, make sure that you tell me. And if any of your readers prefer the shorter chapters, tell me via review! But so far, the longer chapter people are winning! And if you have any suggestions on how you want the story to go, review! :) It just takes one click, right below the chapter, you see that link down there. It says 'Review this Chapter'. **

**But ANYWAY, moving past all of my problems, without further a do, behold _The Trip to the Valley..._**

* * *

The morning came quietly, the sound of the pleasant bird's chirp nonexistent in the vast wasteland. The moon and the twinkling stars still had their faces lit, but the darkness of the sky brightened, making even the desert a place to behold. The morning breeze came, whispering past the monarchs just enough to make their hair dance around their darkened faces.

Tamina woke first; she had always been apted to wake earlier in the day, fully able to enjoy all of its experiences. But this was not the case. There was nothing enjoyable in the fact that a Persian had the Dagger.

She made a quick glace to him, trying to see if she could weasle the Dagger away from his person. She couldn't. Though the ignorant Prince knew of the power that the little weapon possessed, he still did not seem to fully grasp just how important it was. However, he did seem to know that she desperately wanted the Dagger. He was laying on his stomach, the Dagger probably uncomfortably positioned against his body, but she was sure that he did not care.

The Dagger was a very important artifact, and she had to make sure that wherever it was going, it was going to be safe. Safe from any Persian, safe from any man that would be corrupted by its dangerous power. Tamina planned to steal it from the Prince later in the day, perhaps if she was gifted with the perfect opportunity.

But that too, was going to be a challenge. As much as the Princess of Alamut despised the man she was journeying with, she knew that he was a talented man. A fool she would be to deny his skill with a blade, or in his negociations.

He knew that she wanted the Dagger. And if he was confused at all about her coming with him, he surely had no confusion. And though he understood that the small weapon held immense power and potential, he did not know just how important it _really _was. He didn't know the Dagger's story. And Tamina prayed that he would never learn, for it would be the fall of the world indeed.

She stood, abandoning her troublesome thoughts for the moment. Askh stood just off to the side, gently nudging a large grouping of sand with a dirty hoof. All weapons that had been rested with the horse had already been removed, again, on Dastan's part. He had his sword under him, most likely leaving an indentation in his stomach and chest.

There was no food, and there was no water. Although Alamut was situated in one of the hottest places on earth, she had never ventured very far out of her blessed city. And she always had water with her, even if she was simply going to one of the gates. Now she was miles from home, with no water, and with a man that apparently loved to mock her.

Tamina turned, looking to the east, waiting for the golden sun to appear from behind the tall dune in front of her. She sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

Dastan grumbled from behind her, the transition between night and morning must have woke him from his all too pleasant slumber. Taminia smirked as he rubbed his sore front with a groan.

"So the Prince of Persia finally comes to wake!" she enunciated loudly.

"Keep your voice down!" he whispered to her groggily. It was obvious that the morning was not his greatest friend, and she smiled at his complete misery. "Do you want to wake up a camp that could be just behind a dune! We are leaving early so that we have a head start. We want to leave before they wake! The chase does not start at the same time for both parties, Princess." Dastan stood, holding the hilt of his sword tightly, and the hilt of the Dagger tighter.

"Do you honestly think that I would care if you got caught? I would rejoice the fact!"

"Be however you like. Just shut up, for now. Please!" He grimaced. "At least until we get further away from here," he added softly. After, he turned towards the horse, checking the saddle. "Disband the wood and rocks. Garsiv will probably be able to tell that we were here, but I want to stall him for as long as possible." He continued checking the horse.

The Princess huffed, ready to tell him that she would do no such thing. But he was right. Besides, it would be better for her to be away from Alamut, but she would need the Dagger. She feared that if Dastan was right about his eldest brother, Tus, he would still want the Dagger.

They moved quickly, gathering everything that was laying stiffly on the sandy ground.

Dastan stalked over to the horse, checking all of the supplies and sending uneasy glances at the Princess when he saw fit.

Now that he knew why she had come with him, he was very anxious. She was a very suspicious woman, and Dastan knew better than to trust her with anything of importantce. At least Tus had been right in that regard - she was a liability.

The Princess stood just at the edge of their makeshift camp, glancing around everywhere. She too knew that she was in danger, and her companion was not one to be priviledged with her faith. But she also knew that he was the least dangerous of all of the men around her. Even though he threatened her quite often, she knew that he would not kill her. She could see it in his eyes. There was something holding him back, every time. Perhaps because she royalty, or a woman, or even beautiful, she did not know. But that reasons of keeping her alive, for the moment, were not incredibly important. She would learn them in time with more observation.

"We need to leave," she hastily told him.

"And you were begging yesterday to rest." The Prince smirked.

"Only because we needed to! And we need to leave, at least soon. It is too quiet." She hushed an oncoming shudder, refusing to show the Prince any of her fears, no matter how small they may have been.

He smirked once more. The one thing that she hated more than him, was being mocked. It made her feel small and insignificant. "Well, Princess, we are in the middle of the desert. I suppose the only noises you'll be hearing are the comforting sounds of hooves on sand."

Tamina sighed, looking down at her dust covered robe. Before she had left with the Prince, it had been pearly, breathtaking... Now it had dirt and sand stains. And the religious hennas on her hands and ankles were dying.

"But you are right. Time is of the essense," he continued, giving her a little wink and gesturing to the Dagger at his belt. "Come on, Princess. We ride for the mean time." Dastan jumped on Askh, tightly grabbing the reigns. He ushered the horse to her, and lent a calloused hand for her to take.

"And so we ride," she mumbled to herself, already tired of being on the horse. There was nothing wrong with the horse, but the driver, there were many things wrong with him...

"And so we ride," he chanted back, giving a small nod of his head. He gave the horse a small kick, and Askh went flying through the desert, practically soaring across the sand below his hooves.

* * *

As the sun continued to make its way across the cloudless sky, the heat grew, making it almost unbearable for the horse and its riders. Even Dastan was beginning to grow weary. Although he desperately wanted to stay on the horse, he jumped off, forcing his legs to take yet another dry, heated step. Tamina soon followed suit.

The travelling had been quiet for the most part, and for that, the Prince of Persia was grateful. Hearing the woman's voice would only make his head boil even more.

Dastan's steps were swayed; he stumbled several times, unable to regain his balance, the heat draining any energy left in his dried out veins.

He took a quick look behind him, hoping to see the Princess following. She was, but like him, she swayed back and forth, her thick dark hair attracting the heat of the sun. She looked sick, and he had no doubt that he too had a face that was unwelcoming. They were dying, and there was not a drop of water anywhere in sight. They had nothing. They were going to die.

"You know you really do walk like one," Princess Tamina stated. He turned and looked at her, seeing that she was trying to show her strength. She was failing. He could see past that facade with ease.

"Like what?" he questioned. He pulled a cloak from the horse, covering his head with it, hoping to protect his head from the merciless sun.

"Chest up, chin pointed out, head held high. You walk like a Prince. That comes from your father and brothers telling you that the world is yours, that you can do whatever you like with it." She mimicked the movements.

"I wasn't born a Prince!" he shouted at her, turning around to face her, his blue eyes blazing. "I wasn't born in a palace like you! I was born in the streets! And I had to find ways to survive on my own!" Dastan knew that there were things that could not bother him, and he prided on those things. But one thing that he hated people constantly touching on, was his blood. He was not born in the palace. Tus and Garsiv were not his brothers by blood. But what they had had was thicker than blood. Now, Dastan was not sure if he was glad that he shared no blood with them.

Her features softened slightly, taken aback by his sudden outburst. "Then... How did you become a Prince?" she softly asked him, the accusatory tone in her sharp voice was gone, replaced by the uncommon sound of pity. Dastan did not want that either. It only made him feel weaker, like he needed someone to lean on. He did not need her for comfort.

But still, his typical proud voice faltered. "I... I don't know... The King... He... He found me. Took me in when I was a little boy. I have been a Prince ever since." Dastan was done talking about it. He turned, walking away quickly, leaving the Princess alone to her thoughts, and she knew that he no longer wished to talk about the subject. No doubt, he had been picked on and tormented about his unworthy blood. Tamina thought that it would be a sore spot for her if she were in such a predicament.

Later, as the sun still beat down on the darkened monarchs, they stopped. Just for a break, as they were both dying of a great overload of heat, and lack of water. The sun had gotten to its midpoint in the cloudless sky, leaving no places for shade. Even if there had been a tree or even a rock, there would have been no way that it would have helped them. They were stranded in the desert.

Tamina collapsed on the ground, wanting to bury herself in the sand to prevent herself from becoming as dry and withered as the sand around her. She didn't care about her dress anymore; she just wanted to escape the unescapable heat. She felt as if she were going to die, the pitch black hair on her sweaty forehead would kill her!

Dastan too fell to his knees, mainly from exhaustion, however, the sun was doing its fair share on him. He produced the Dagger from his belt, and he opened the cap with a flick of his thumb. There was nothing else to do.

Cautiously, he scooped sand up in his palm, holding it over the Dagger. He didn't know what he would do with the time that he would be given, but it would be nice to have it for emergency situations.

"Without the right kind of sand, it is just an ordinary dagger," Tamina said, catching her breath. She glared at him out of the tops of her eyes. Why did he have to find it? Why was it given to him when he was a Persian? And why, oh why, did he have to run away into the scorching unknown? If she had not been born to protect the Dagger, she would have left him long ago. But she had to go wherever the priceless weapon would go, and if that meant into the sun itself, she would follow warily behind.

But hopefully it would not come to that. Hopefully she would be able to retrieve the Dagger, then go back to Alamut, protect the Dagger from all of the invading Persians that would definitely try to get their dirty, calloused hands on it.

Dastan turned back, looking at her with shrewd blue eyes. "Is there more of the proper sand?" he asked tiredly.

"No," came her curt reply quickly. Tamina mentally kicked herself for answering so fast. Of course, he would catch something like that. There was a great amount of Sand back in Alamut, undearneath the paved ground. But she always carried some of her own. She made a brief glance down to her chest, seeing the tiny vile that held just under a minute of time. It was nestled snuggly between her breasts, she thought with a smile. Though the Prince may find its whereabouts, he would not be able to snag the vile without getting a good slap in the face. And she would be happy to bestow the glowing handprint on his prideful face.

The Princess quickly began tying up her cape, trying hard to try to hide the vile. She jerked the strings quickly, not wasting a second of precious time. Regardless of the fact that she wanted to slap him, it would be better if she kept the small fragment of Sand away from his keen eyes. Those eyes that saw practically everything. It was really quite strange. She almost shivered when she thought about how much his eyes really did see; it unnerved her more and more with each passing moment she spent with the Prince.

"Where can I get some?" he asked, coming up to her and holding the Dagger close to her face. He obviously could see past her facade, and he knew that there was certainly a place where the sacred Sand was kept, locked away from the greedy eyes of hunting, power-thirsty men.

Tamina inhaled, bracing herself for an argument that was surely to come. The scent of the Prince crashed against her without warning, leaving the Princess to take a step back from the situation at hand. She could smell the sweat and dirt that clung to his dark skin, but there was something else. A scent that had never reached her nose before. It was pleasant, but almost over powering.

The Priestess squared her shoulders, setting her jaw tightly. She would be the last to fall to the power of a man. A Prince of Persia no less. She would rather die before having to subject herself to such helplessness. "You used the last of it last night," she said slowly, trying to sound as if it was a true statement. She avoided his eyes, figuring that he would be able to see the lie in her eyes. But she was strong; she had control over her emotions, and she was not about to let a man find his way around her well built defenses.

She looked up at him after a moment, when he had yet to give her a response. He was looking down at her, though not at her face. His willing eyes most likely searched her body until he found what he was looking for. And he had found it. The Princess felt like cursing. Damn his wary and observant, dark blue eyes.

It felt incredibly awkward, feeling his eyes resting on her, especially on her chest. She reached her hands up, fiddling with the strings of her dark cape once more, trying desperately to cover her breasts with her hands and arms. "See something you like, Prince?" she asked carefully, looking out of the corner of her eye at him, her brow arching just a little in question.

His attention was brought back up to Tamina. He shook his head after recalling what she had said. For once, the Prince of Persia was speechless and quite embarrassed. But now he knew where at least some of Sand was. Taking it from her would pose a challenge, as it was, ahem, well... A man typically would not want to reach out to grab something if it was in that general area...

Dastan walked away, back to black horse, his quick minid already trying to form a plan to get his hands on the Sand. Whatever the Sand would be used for, it would be helpful. Especially if it was a life or death situation where there really was no choice of whether to use the Dagger.

* * *

"The Valley of Slaves? We should not go in there," Tamina said resolutely. She was not a Persian, but she knew of the deeds that were carried out in that Valley.

By now, the grainy sand that they had been trudging through had become hard rock, little pieces of dirt scattered on the rocky plain. All around them now slept tall, broad boulders, all a fiery red from sun damage. Occasionally, there would lay a dried up shrub, its old branch tips sharp and crude, ready to tear at whatever came its way.

"My brother would not suspect us to go through here, thus it is safe," Dastan explained, his bold voice hoarse, throat most likely coated with remnants of sand from their tedious journey.

He looked back, seeing her swaying back and forth, the heat getting the best of her. Her long, thick hair was glistening with sweat as it plastered itself to her caramel colored face. Regardless of the fact that Dastan found her terribly annoying, he would be a fool if he was going to deny the fact that she was beautiful. The Prince even ventured to say that she was one of fairest women that he had ever gazed upon, possibly the fairest. But her mouth! She talked far too much, and every one of their debates had left him with a searing head ache.

"Safe?" For once, she did not try to mask her pure shock. "But of course. A manifestation where residents execute trespassers and put them on display for the public to see if perfectly safe. We are going to be just fine. Nothing to worry about whatsoever," she said sarcastically.

Dastan smiled slightly. "Just as long as we stay away from enemy eyes, we should be alright. We just can't be seen. It should be quite simple with all of these boulders," he told her calmly.

Tamina did truly not feel well. The hair that she had once loved would now become her oven. Her own, wonderful hair would kill her in the end. But she would be alright, at least for the time being. She would have to be alright. She would not have this Persian finding something to use against her, regardless that it may just be playful. She would be alright, she thought wearily. Just as long as she got away from her silent captor soon.

After a moment of silence, Tamina began to set her plan into action, taking it one small step at a time. "May I please have some water?" she asked, swaying more and more with each passing minute.

Dastan shook his head. "When you found those last couple of drops of water in a saddle bag, you drank all of it. We have no more." Their last few drops of water! She had drank all of it! It made Dastan's temper bristle. She had been so inconsiderate, taking all of the water like she had. Though he did not really need it, the horse would have benefitted greatly from it, though the amound found was miniscule.

Another moment of silence.

"I am not built like you Persians," she told him scornfully, using the last amount of her energy to glare at him, though it had been completely pointless because he did not turn to look at her. "I cannot stand the heat like you can. I live in a palace where it is wonderfully cool all year around. I do not have to deall with this sun day in and day out. We must stop for at least a moment!"

"You stay in your blessed palace all day, or locked away in you blessed temple, never to come out to see the people you govern as they suffer from the heat! They are forced to stay outside, to make a living, to provide for their hungry families! While you stay inside, not giving them an ounce of your sympathy or assisstance, not even realizing that your people are tired and weak! You are so selfish! You cannot see past your own worries, letting others of high authority take care of the things that were left in your responsibility! You bathe in steam, worrying about what dress you are going to wear, while others are likely bathing in mud and are are worrying if someone has stolen whatever scraps of clothing they have!" Dastan allowed his temper to flare, hopefully sending a message to the Princess.

The youngest Prince had learned early on in his short lifetime that he had had a temper. And he knew that when it was unleased, even he would not be able to stop it.

But he had meant those things. She really was an evil witch. At least he had gone out regularly into the crowds of Persia, seeing what things were needed from the royals. He even enjoyed doing such a thing. It made him feel proud of the country that he was ruling over.

Dastan pulled the reigns to a stop on the horse, looking up to God with his other hand stretched, reaching to the sky. "Thank God! Oh, I have shut up the Princess!" He turned to give the Princess a look of triumph, not at all scared of whatever glare she would bestow upon him.

However, that was not what he saw. Instead of the proud Princess, he saw a crumpled one, lying on the hot, rocky earth, passed out from the sun. "Tamina?" he asked worried, walking over to her. He stopped halfway, not really wanting to go to her. It could very well be a trap, and she would be the kind of person to pull something like that. But then, she had been swaying quite a bit, and she did not look well at all.

She did not stir.

"Tamina?" he asked once more louder this time, coming closer. He hoped that she would wake and stand up, engaging him in a heated debate once more. God, he did not want to have to carry her to the horse. The horse needed to walk by itself, but Dastan was not in the kind of position to be able to waste precious time.

Still, she did not stir.

Now, he pushed all of his doubt away from himself, kneeling down beside her and barely touching her shoulder. "Tamina, can you hear me?"

A hand bolted out from the supposed sleeping Princess, a large rock in her small hand.

He felt the pressure of the stone as it hit him in the side of the head, immediately pushing him into unconsiousness.

Tamina smiled. Of course, a Prince would be not be able to resist the Princess who had passed out. Such an idiot was this man.

Without a second thought, she took the Dagger. Thank the heavens that it was in her care once more. Then, deciding that he would have no need of weapons in his present state, she took his sword. It was a dangerous world that they lived in, and a weapon that would be deadly would be of a great service. "Yes, Dastan. I can hear you," she told him, a heavy dose of irony in her sharp voice.

Then she turned, running to the horse. She jumped on the hot, leather saddle, ready to leave her fallen captor. Tamina gave him once last look, admiring the look of his awkward sleep.

If his brother found him, then she was not going to be around for that, and if the Valley residents found him, well... She wasn't going to around for that either, she thought with a smile of defiance.

With a jerk of the reigns, Askh sped off, his breath heavy and soaked with exhaustion.

**

* * *

**

Ah, there we are. I know that most of you were hoping to see the Skeik's appearance in this chapter, but this one turned out a little longer than I expected it would, so he will be saved until the next chapter. Sorry for those of you who were looking forward to it. :(

I think that this is my longest chapter, guys, so you got to tell me if you like the length! Woo hoo to the longest chapter! Just under five thousand words! Wow! I think that that is worth a review, don't you think? hint hint... :)

Again, I cannot apologize enough for the tardiness of the update, and I hope that I do not hit this kind of speedbump EVER again.

Now it is time to review. I really don't know how to say it guys. The more of you who review, the faster the next chapter comes. If only a couple review, I think that the story is not in a great demand, so I think that I can take a while to update. This is not rocket science, people. And to those of you who have reviewed, thank you SO much. You guys are AWESOME! So please review!


	6. Unwelcome Thoughts & an Interesting Idea

**Holy crap! Wow! I am so sorry guys it took me this long to update. And this time I don't have any kind of excuse that would put me in the right once more. I just hope that all of you can forgive me. *sheepishly smiles* I am so sorry guys, I cannot beg for your forgiveness enough!**

**So here is where things begin to get tricky. You see, it has been a few months since I have seen this movie, and the memories of all of the events are beginning to fade away, unfortunately. So, I don't really know how well I am going to be following the story. But this chapter should be just fine. The quotes of course, are not going to be anywhere near how it went in the movie, but the actions should follow closely, at least with situations. **

**Now, next order of business. I think that I have decided that after the movie scenes and whatever, (where I promised a new ending) I think that I will be continuing the story. I THINK. I am not sure, but I THINK. So review, and tell what you think about this. It really is up to you guys after all. I could go either way, really. I love writing, so as long as I am writing for something that is still popular, I am quite satisfied. **

**And here we are, finally the literature! Love ya'll! And sorry again! I pray that this chapter is good enough to compensate for my lateness. Please review! **

**So behold, _Unwelcome thoughts and interesting deals..._**

* * *

The sun. Even for a Persian, it could be the death of you in the end. Its harmful rays could penetrate deep into your soul and roast you alive. Or suck all of the moisture out of you. Whatever comes first.

As Dastan laid under the powerful ball of energy, there was nothing that could come to his regularly fast-paced mind. He couldn't think of one thing for too long anway.

He was going to die. He was going to follow his father into an uncertain path. And he didn't know what to think of that. Did he really want to die?

Yes. He did. There was nothing left in his life. His father had been murdered. And his brothers were pushing the blame on him. Even his people would spit on him if they got the oppurtunity, he was sure.

Yes. He wanted to die.

But why was there this feeling that there was something that he had been neglecting to do? There was unfinished business, but what was it? Proving his innocence? No. No, that could not be it. His brothers wouldn't listen to them. His uncle was probably convinced of his false treachery by now, too.

That wasn't important. If he wanted to survive, for whatever reason it might be, he was going to have to open his bloodshot eyes and move to somewhere he could hide from the sun.

But he didn't want to move. His muscles would protest at the first sign of movement.

The Prince of Persia gave a sigh, feeling immensly weak.

However, the urge to move was far too strong, and slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the world from the sandy ground.

It appeared to be a very serene picture around him. Nothing too out of the ordinary. The sky that stretched to the ends of the earth was a crystal blue, quite in contrast to the redness of the heated rock around him. The sun was the usual golden ball with shining rays that pierced every living thing without mercy.

Then there was the camel nose that was suddenly obstructing the scene. The domestic creature gave a sniff of curiosity with its enlarged nostrils. Drool crept its way out of its stained teeth and fell on a very unsuspecting Dastan. He grimaced, needless to say.

"What is this?" a voice questioned. The muffled sound of feet hitting the desert floor hit Dastan's ears. His brother would not travel with camels. These gentle creatures were not particularly fast, and to catch the youngest Prince, speed was a nescesity. "A Persian?" he heard once more. The voice was curious, but obviously well guarded. "How long has it been since a Persian trudged into our lands, Seso?" He sounded more assured now. And he was not alone.

The only response was a solitary grunt, deep enough to send shivers up and down Dastan's spine. Who was this Seso? He didn't like how the man sounded, that was for sure.

Taking his time, Dastan sat up, making sure to show the man or men around him that he meant no harm.

Just before him were two men. Both looking rather contended and of high authority. But they were not from Garsiv's scavange.

One, who appeared to be the leader of the duo was rather large around the middle, showing that he had enough wealth to be able to feast on more proper things. This also meant that he did not regularly spend his free time with exercise or things of that sort. His beard was long and ragger, reaching just to the middle of his chest and quite a dirty gray color. His skin was dark like most Persians, but not nearly as dark as his companion. Around his over-sized head, were rags, wrapped around him in ways that depicted his stature amongst the people. However many people that may be, Dastan was not sure. Was he the leader? Oh, God...

But who was this other one? Dastan slowly and with caution turned his gaze to other man. He had been called Seso, and as hard as Dastan tried to think of a man given this name, there was no one that he could match. Even the man's face was not recognizeable. His skin was dark, incredibly dark, as if by nature. He had absolutely no hair, neither on his head or on his glossy face. But it was what was around his belt that frightened the young Prince the most. Knives of all types of caliber hung loosely from the leather belt, clearly ready at the man's disposal. Well... That was a terrifying thought...

"Who are you?" the leader asked, crouching down on his knees to investigate Dastan. Dastan didn't know whether to cringe away from the man or stare him in the eyes. He chose the second option, trying to appear confident. Faltering would only prove amusing to the fat man.

"A traveller," Dastan said. In the Valley of Slaves, being a Prince of Persia would not be a good thing, especially if you just happened to be the brother who killed his father, the King of thier vast country. Either way, Dastan vowed to himself to not let the man know who he really was.

"One who is lying collapsed on the desert floor?" he tried again, his bushy eyebrows arching painfully, making Dastan inwardly gulp.

He fought to regain his composure. "From the sun. It must have gotten to my head." He prayed that the answer would be good enough for the man. It was a logical answer in some retrospect.

It wasn't. "Could be, could be," he mumbled to himself, looking down for a moment and then meeting Dastan's eyes again. "A traveller, eh?"

Dastan gave a weary nod, not putting faith in his tongue to communicate properly.

"From where?" The man's eyes narrowed as they pierced into Dastan's soul, searching for any reason to kill him.

"Alamut," he said after a moment. That was more or less true anyway...

"Hmm. You look like a Persian," he replied, not sounding convinced.

"I came from Alamut," he told the man resolutely, his temper beginning to flare just a little. It was the truth, after all, but slightly bent to fit the young Prince's will.

"Do you know of the Ngbaka?" he asked quite suddenly, a wicked twinkle appearing in his dull brown eyes.

Dastan shook his head, somewhat surprised by the sudden change in topic, but glad for it nonetheless. The less time spent on pondering Dastan's whereabouts, the better.

"Expert knife-throwers. With one throw, they could decapitate _two _men," he said lowly, his rumbling voice dripping with excitement. Dastan tried his best to hold back the grimace that was already making its appearence on his face. "And I was fortunate enough to be able to save one from death," he continued, either not caring about the look on his opponent's face, or unaware of it. "Seso, here is a Ngbaka and he is indebted to me. Wonderful, isn't it?"

The Prince nodded uneasily. He didn't like where this was going.

"So, unless you start revealing the actual truth, I may want to tell Seso that his next throw...should be a little higher?" He looked down at the knife lodged in the desert ground, less than a foot from the Persian's manhood.

Dastan's eyes widened maniacally, and he vigorously shook his head.

"Then we have an accord?" the man asked wickedly. Clearly, he was used to getting what he wanted.

Dastan nodded slowly, his fast mind already working on how to get himself out of the sticky situation the Princess had kindly put her captor in. The witch... But maybe... Just maybe he could use the ever-so-lovely Tamina to get himself out. That would teach her a lesson that she would not so quickly forget.

"Good sir?" Dastan started, trying to make his voice as kind and curious as possible. He was going to need a miracle. The man looked at him quizzically. "I have a woman see..." He struggled with his words. This needed to be convincing. "She seems to have gotten away from me in the past hour or so since my untimely slumber. She always has been quite talented where it comes to sneaking away at the most inappropriate occasions. Along with her conniving person, she has stolen an assortment of all of my goods that I have taken on my prolonged journey through your benevolent valley. I had a princely steed along with several weapons strapped to its saddle. But what is more, good man, she has stolen all availabilities of refreshments. My water, my little food... everything this witch has ungraciously taken from my possession. Before you do what you will with me, I would like to make a request that I am given the opportunity to sought after the woman in hopes of finding my keepsakes well intact. You understand my dilemma, Sir?" Dastan asked pleadingly. He had to admit, he was quite exuberant on how that small speech turned out.

He looked into the man's eye, trying to see what the man could be thinking. He saw a strong glimmer in the man's eye that looked as if he had just had the most splendid revelation.

"This woman, you say, Persian?" he asked, stroking his bushy beard thoughtfully. "Is she any kind of beautiful?" The gleam in the man's eyes grew darker and more mischievous. Well, things were going just too perfect for Prince Dastan now.

"I can guaruntee that she be one of the fairest women you could lay eyes on. What interest be she to you, though if I may be so bold as to inquire?" Dastan asked with fake curiosity.

"What say you to a bargain?" the fat man asked.

"I am quite eager to hear it. But first, what are you called? I was unable to catch your name, powerful, it may be."

"Amar. Though that would be _Sheik _Amar to you, for the time being. You would do well to remember that lad," he said, obviously quite flattered with Dastan's strong compliments towards his name. "And your name, Persian?"

"Is unimportant, at the moment. What is your thoughts on this woman?" Dastan replied quickly, eager to move on to his payback to Tamina. And most likely, his name would already be spread out across Persia along with a physical description. He was going to have to be careful, but it was a risk that he was willing to take if it meant getting that Dagger back from its protector.

"If you can get yourself along with my associate and myself, and she is as fair as you claim her to be, then you may go free. But you would have to give me the woman as a return. But you may have your belongings." Amar walked to his camel, patting it. "Of course, if she is accompanied with a horse, racing her down on a camel would be impossible. Lucky for us, we are always prepared. We have a few horses just back a ways. Strong and fast are these beasts. Would you be interested?" Amar asked, already gesturing to Seso to bring the three horses.

Dastan pondered for a moment, considering his option. "What would you be planning on doing with her, if I may ask?" For some reason he could not identify, he did not want to see the Princess hurt. Or worse... raped. He just wanted to teach her a lesson, not make her hurt in other ways. He would not stand for that.

"You are welcome to see, young man," Amar said casually.

"Would I be able to replenish my stock of supplies before I set out?"

"But, of course." Amar turned his attention to his companion who had emerged with three sturdy horses. "Ah." He climbed onto one of the remaining horses, (as Seso had already seated himself comfortably in one of the saddles) leaving the last one for the unexpectiong traveller. "Hurry along, Persian. We would not want your lady-friend to get too far ahead of us that we cannot track her!"

Dastan nodded, and climbed into the saddle. With a flick of the reins and a kick in the rump, the horse was on its way, the dark blue eyes of the Prince tracing every grain of sand in search of any sign that the young Princess had been about.

* * *

Tamina rode.

She did not know how long her lonesome journey had been, but it was certainly less than a day. Her dark eyes had been solely focused on the ahead route, ebony hair flying madly behind her.

It could have been fifteen minutes.

It could have been fifteen hours.

But however long, she did not think of stopping until the day was through and she could rest under the cover of the night.

She knew that Dastan would be after her. She had immediately taken the Dagger with her when she left him stranded. The one thing that he had needed in his false hope of bringing his father back from the silent grave. He was a fool.

However, there was something inside of the young woman that thought differently. She could see the pain that he had kept withing his unable body. She could see the innocence in his dark blue eyes. She could hear the passion in his voice when he would talk about his father and how much he had loved him. Tamina knew that he would have done anything if it meant that he would be able to see his father again, alive and healthy, sitting on the Persian throne.

But alas, that could not be. His father was dead, and there was nothing that could be done to take back the cruel time. Turning Time back more than a minute was illegal, and it would destory every living thing. Dastan did not know this, and Tamina never intended to tell him that exclusive secret, but she knew that even if he was aware of the circumstances, his mind would not waver. He was stubborn, much like herself. There would be nothing that would be able to change his mind, and in a way, Tamina respected that. Determination was one of the most valued characteristics that one coulid posses. At least in her eyes.

That poor man. The things that he had gone through the past few, long days. He had lost the man who had saved him from the hardships of the streets. His brothers had turned against him, firmly believing that it was their youngest adopted brother who had exterminated the King. He had lost the trust of his uncle who had been claimed to be very family oriented. And just recently, he had been abandoned by her and the vision of his father alive. In two days, his whole world had been distinguished. He was an unwanted outlaw.

Tamina shook her head, clearing her thoughts of the Prince. It was terribly unproper to be thinking of the youngest Prince in that light. He had stolen her lands and killed her people for a crime that they had not committed. But then, he was being prosecuted by his family for a crime that _he_ hadn't committed_. No! Stop thinking like that! It won't do you any good to pity him. He doesn't deserve it. And he isn't here to recieve it. Stop it_! She shook her head once more, willing those unwelcome thoughts to leave her in peace.

She looked down at the horse, noting its heavy panting. The poor animal was tired and she had no water to feed to poor creature. Maybe stopping wasn't such a bad idea, after all. Besides, she left Dastan without a horse. There would be no way possible that he would be able to catch up with her. Tamina had already put enough distance between him and herself for her to feel comfortable in taking a small breather, for not only the horse's sake.

With keen eyes, the Princess of Alamut took an inventory glance around her, searching for the closest possible shade for her and the horse. Tamina slowed the animal, practically feeling its gratitude seep into her bones. She had worked the creature far too hard. There was no harm whatsoever in taking a break, she finally decided. It was a risk that she was willing to take.

Coming to a stop, Tamina dismounted, patting the neck of Aksh affectionately. "It is alright, friend. Take a rest. We are in no danger," she soothed, running her nimble fingers through his dark mane. "That's a good boy. I promise that as soon as we get to a civilized part of this gods-forsaken valley, I will treat you with the finest feasts and drinks. It is no wonder Dastan took you out of all of the horses. You are definitely, without a doubt, the most magnificent horse that could ever have lived. You should be proud of yourself. You have done it!" She smiled enthusiastically. "Here, I'll even take off all of this baggage to make it easier for you. We are in no hurry. At least not right at the moment," she mumbled, her tanned face looking over her shoulder back at the way that she had come.

She wondered whether Dastan was awake yet. What could he possibly be thinking of her at this very moment? Outrage, most likely. He did not seem to be the type of man who would take kindly to betrayal, even if it were to come from her. Truly, she was amazed that he had not wanted to tie her up to prevent her from pulling a stunt like that.

But it was that foolish thought that she could be trusted that saved her the pain of having to cut through binds, get on his side, and then steal the Dagger. Even if she hated him, and she knew that she didn't.

He just didn't understand the power of the Dagger. There were so many things that it could do, and it was a violation on her part to give him a full account on all of the details. But there was something that just made her want to. He seemed like he could be trusted with a secret such as hers. She knew that the earlier guardians would not take kindly to sharing that kind of information, but she knew that if she was ever going to see him again, he was going to want answers. He desereved answers.

In the distance, heavy horsefalls sounded, arousing Tamina from her previous thoughts. She was being followed! Whether it be by Dastan or his brothers, she did not know, but she did not care. She just knew that it was best if she remained free and uncaught.

Quick thinking brought her to the conclusion that she was going to be unable to evade the eyes of whoever was a few moments behind her. All of the horse's baggage was laying haphazardly on the ground, and putting it back on was going to prove a challenge.

But still. She had to try. Abandoning the luggage, she hopped on the horse's saddle, kicking the animal to get him to a fast run. But Askh was too tired to run. He was done for the day. He tried hard to keep a fast pace for the sake of his rider, but both knew that it just wasn't going to work.

Three horses came into view and with ease circled her, trapping her. She dismounted in a symbol of peace. _Don't draw any attention to yourself and you'll be just fine. Make them think that you are only a woman and that you carry nothing of value._

Only three? Garsiv would not have only brought three men. He seemed of a little more caliber than that. Was it the ruffians of the Valley? She hoped not. That was all that she needed right now. Trouble. And with a dangerous and powerful weapon, it was a bleak situation.

"Well, seems that you were right about the beauty there. She is quite the looker," she heard a vile voice whisper. She felt a shudder roll down her spine, and she turned to glare at the vile man.

"Just as I promised," another voice said calmly. Dastan! Tamina's head whipped around and saw the young Prince sitting proudly on a horse, his face incredibly smug as he looked down at her. How did he get to her?

The other man began chattering excitedly, but Tamina didn't focus on the man, she was only caught in Dastan's eyes. Why was she there? _Probably because you're furious with him and also quite shocked that he managed to catch up with you as fast as he did, _she thought to herself. That made sense and made her feel more confident in her glare at him.

Dastan extended his hand to her, and the young lady surrendered as she reached her hand out to take it. His hand recoiled and his eyes communicated that he was not interested in the hand. She sighed.

Tamina turned to the horse and grabbed his sword and thrust it out at him, so furious that he had been able to catch her. He smiled and sheathed his sword, then turned back to her. He held his hand out once more, finger twitching toward him. He wanted the Dagger. Of course.

The Princess of Alamut looked around her, making sure that no one was really paying attention to her and handed the ancient weapon to the Persian. She felt disgusted with herself, but she knew that she needed to put up some kind of facade if it meant getting out alive and with the Dagger. _Just go with it, _he concsience told her patiently.

Dastan looked happy to have the Dagger back. He gazed at the empty sand glass and sheathed it in his belt, hiding it mostly from view. At least he had the decency to do that.

He looked down at her, the smug look crossing his face once again. But nevertheless he held his hand out to her. What more could he want? She couldn't necessarily put the horse in his palm!

"Come on," he mouthed, looking down to his hand once more. She gingerly grabbed his hand, and dat behind him on the saddle. Awkwardly, she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling a small blush come into her face. Why would she blush? There was nothing to blush about! This man had control of one of the most powerful instruments of war there ever was, and she was blushing!

"Well are we ready then?" the fat man asked, grabbing the reins of the other horse.

"I believe so," Dastan answered with ease. "We made need to walk the horses for a while though. It seems as if the lady has worn my animal out. He cannot continue at the rate he was going at. Such an attempt to get away, all for nothing." He turned to her. "Right back to the beginnning, aren't we, Tamina?" he whispered. "Let's go. We should get as far as we can before nightfall," he announced to the others.

"Who's to say that we won't get to where we intend to go before the day is spent?" the fat one asked once more, a glint of anger in his eyes. "And also. I am the leader of this party. Not you, unnamed young man. Have I told you of the Ngbaka?"

Tamina looked to Dastan and was quite shocked to see that the Prince had paled quite a bit and his mouth was slightly agape. Well, he had finally found his match. What wonderful news that was.

He nodded uneasily and closed his mouth and gestured to the fat one to make the order.

The fat one gave a small nod of approval and situated himself more comfortably in his saddle. "We ride. The horses may walk for now. We would be there before nightfall anyway. We have time."

"And so it begins again, Princess," Dastan whispered. "I didn't tell them who you were. I would have thought that you would want it that way. Expect the treatment that a common slave would get." He paused. "Also, I would like to keep my name hidden, for obvious reasons."

She nodded, grateful that both of them were only mysteries to the other two men. But to be treated like a slave? What was that supposed to mean?

"And so it begins," she said softly, looking at the other two.

* * *

**Ah! There we are! The chapter finally! Again, I apologize for making it so late. I really don't have anything to say on my behalf.**

**So, please review. Tell me what ya think. I feel quite proud of this chapter, and we finally are beginning to see some of the feelings that Dastan and Tamina may or may not be harboring for each other! Exciting! **

**Again, I am sorry! Hope to hear from everyone! Thanks for bearing with me here! **


	7. A Day at the Races

****

**Why hello there, everyone! Bet you weren't expecting to see me back so soon. Fortunately for everyone, I have just seen the movie yet again, (the third time hehe), and the passion to write this story in the first place was reborn! Yay! **

And, unfortunately now, I haven't gotten much feedback on the proposition that I posed to you all last update. I am thinking about continuing this story once it is done movie-wise. But it is up to you, and I want to know what you think.

And my goodness guys! I cannot get over the fact that you all like my story so much! Almost fifty reviews for only six chapters! That is freaking awesome! I don't even know where to begin thanking you guys! You are the main reason that I write this story! And your support continues to baffle me! I know some writers would die to have as many reviews as I have, especially for so small a story! Thanks you guys!

**Anyway, sit back and relax and behold _A day at the races..._**

* * *

Tamina couldn't believe him. All pity that she ever had for him was gone without a second thought.

He had used her! What else was she supposed to think about that? He had bargained himself out of enslavement of death, whatever it was, Tamina didn't care. And he had traded her without a thought to save his sorry hide.

"Don't be too upset, Princess. It serves you right, I woke up to a savage looking man who was going to kill me, with the most dreadful pain in my head," the Prince said calmly, tearing her from her thoughts. How he had felt her anger and known what she had been thinking a moment prior, she was not sure, but he had.

The Princess of Alamut thought over his words. Yes, she had been slightly out of line when hitting him earlier, but she was doing it in sake of the Dagger. There was nothing on earth that would be able to make her forget her sacred duty. She had hit him for the greater good of all mankind. And yet, here he was, smiling like a fool, telling her not to be angry. He had such nerve!

"I did what was needed to be done. You certainly weren't going to do it. You and your Persian greed," she scoffed.

"Perhaps," he said shrugging indifferently.

"You don't know the power of that Dagger, Dastan. It could destroy every living thing as we know it, and there wouldn't be a thing that you would be able to do about it!" she yelled in a whisper, leaning in to say it in his ear. She caught a fairly strong draft of his scent, and froze. Although he smelt of mainly blood and sweat, there was something else in that smell. It was a musty smell, but very soothing, making Tamina's head spin as it stroked her nose in the kindest of ways. She took another deep breath and inhaled the scent again, not being able to stop herself. Along with the musty smell that enticed her so, she picked up on a stronger smell. A small bite that was almost identical to mint leaves. He smelt like heaven... The Princess immediately shook her head to clear those thoughts. She should not be thinking things like that. It wasn't appropriate for someone in her situation.

"You forget, Princess, that I too know of what that knife can do," Dastan said in quiet tones, making her freeze yet again. His voice sounded so lost and pained, and whether she wanted to or not, her heart secretly swelled with pity for him. He had lost everything important to him in one day, and she wasn't making things any easier on him. "I am fairly aware of how dangerous that thing is. And it is because of this God-awful peice of weaponry that my father is dead," he said, his voice getting harsher every word. "And it is because of that thing that Tus is going to be the King." Tamina felt him tense. "You don't need to tell me that it is dangerous. I know damn well that it's dangerous."

Tamina's head fell slightly. She felt the strong urge to apologize for her thoughtless words, but she knew from the sound of his voice that he was in no forgiving mood. She couldn't blame him.

"Ah, here we are," the Sheik said, not noticing the conversation that had recently taken place between the two. "My humble abode! Come, come quickly, before it starts!" He urged his horse faster, and Aksh followed suit.

In the distance, small tents were set up, all centered around a small dirt road, lined with wooden fences. It was a ghastly place, but it seemed to be bursting with energy, which made both monarchs slightly curious. Was this not the Valley of Slaves? One of the most horrendous places in the world?

"What was the bargain?" Dastan heard Tamina whisper. He looked over his shoulder at her, only seeing her eyes rake the small civilization in front of them, trying to discern why everyone in the hazy distance seemed so at peace.

She looked so regal, sitting there. The kohl on her eyes was long gone by now, but the darkness around her brown eyes was still pronounced, accenting her sharp features all the more. Her long, ebony hair was in braid and laid limply over her shoulder. Even though they had their quarrels regularly, there wasn't anything that he could do to stop the thought "she's beautiful" from running across his mind almost every time he looked in her direction.

But she was so stubborn! Every time he would think that they were finally started to tolerate one another, she would go and do something crazy that would make him furious again. Her latest excursion left him lying on the desert floor at the mercy of an expert knife-thrower.

"Dastan?" she asked, her eyes turning to look into his.

He promptly snapped out of his daze and looked at her once more. "Hmm?"

"What was the bargain?" she asked him patiently. At this he turned back in the saddle, feeling a small blush creep up to his face.

"Trade my freedom for you. I must say, I think that I got the better end of the deal," he told her playfully, falling back into a well practiced routine. He glanced back at her, not failing to miss the tiniest twitch of the corner of her lips.

She was fighting back a smile. Well, that was something new... He had never seen her smile before. And before he could stop his traitorous mind, he tried to picture just how fair she would look if he saw her smile, even if it was small.

Then a new thought crossed her mind, as the smile vanished and her eyes clouded in confusion, and Dastan's thoughts immediately turned away from her beauty and went to focus on what she was thinking about. "What are they going to do with me?" Her whisper was barely audible, but he could hear the terror in her voice.

"I don't know," he told her truthfully. Before she could begin her yelling, which he knew she was going to try, he cut her off, "But I promise, I won't let them do _that _to you." He honestly didn't know what would happen, but he would die before he saw Tamina used in a way that would dishonor her. She deserved more than that.

"How noble," she said icily, ending the conversation.

Amar turned to them on his horse, just before the gate to his small city. "We are going to need to bind her. I don't want her running off, like she is bound to do," he said calmly, fetching some ropes from the sack on his saddle. He handed them to Dastan, who was looking rather dumbfounded. "Care to do the honors?" Amar continued, not noticing Dastan's uncomfort.

Dastan hesitated when he took the ropes. He could feel Tamina tense up behind him, and he knew that she was angry with him. He couldn't really blame her, but she didn't need to know that...

He dismounted, leaving her in the saddle. He looked sheepishly up at her, not really sure what to say. She avoided his gaze.

Dastan preceded to bind her wrists, then helped her off of the horse, biding her ankles with fake tightness, surprised she let him do so without kicking and screaming like he was used to. As crazy and unbelieveable as it sounded, he did not want to hurt her.

Then, without warning, Seso, the Ngbaka, came alongside them and threw Tamina haphazardly over the horse. She gave a small shriek at the sudden movement, but pointedly avoided Dastan's gaze.

The Prince walked the horse into the city, getting several strange looks from people as he passed, but he ignored them, only focusing on the road ahead and how he was going to get out of the city without further incident.

"Such a noble Prince," he heard Tamina tell him coldly, her voice dripping with sarcasm as they entered a dimly lit tunnel. He cast her a look, only to see the Princess glaring at him through dark eyes.

"Such a gentle Princess," he retorted.

"You were so concerned when I fell, so eager to help the fallen beauty," she said, testing his nerves.

"Who says you're a beauty?" he asked, not daring to look into her eyes, because he knew that she would be able to see right through his pathetic lie.

With quickness she answered back, "Well, there must be a reason you can't take your eyes off me." He stopped dead in his tracks, the horse coming to a stop as well. He turned to her, meeting her eyes.

For some reason, words would not form. He could not think of anything that he would be able to say to such a comment. Her mouth was slightly open, obviously ready with whatever clever retort he would give her. "I-I-uh-I- I don't trust you," he finally said, shaking his head slightly.

Seso came from out of nowhere, yet again and tore Tamina from the horse, taking her to Amar. Dastan followed warily, though put on his smug face. For some reason, he knew that Amar or Seso would not do anything that she was thinking of.

The fat Sheik began cutting the ropes from Tamina's hands, while she only stared coldly at Dastan who was smirking.

"So tell me," Dastan started, his wit fully back, as he addressed Amar. "What do you plan on doing with her, if I might ask?" He let his eyes look at figure, successfully holding back the flush that he felt was pushing against his flesh in his cheeks, eager to come out.

"Yes, do tell him. Can't you see how concerned he is?" she asked, looking quickly from the Sheik to Dastan, her eyes giving a small roll.

Amar smiled, looking at Dastan. "You will want to see this," he said. The young Prince raised his eyebrows in question, but soon decided that he would stay to see the Princess go through terrible embarrassment.

Dastan gave a small smile as he looked down. He walked over to the Princess who was glaring at him yet again. Truthfully, he wanted to tell her that, given how many times she had glared at him for the past few days, he had well gotten used to it, and was not longer intimidated by it. "Give me a moment," the Prince said firmly to Amar, grabbing Tamina's arm tightly and dragged her over to a more secluded spot of the room. He looked at her for a long moment, then smiled inwardly to himself. "It is hard for me to admit, but yes," he paused looking into her eyes. They widened slightly. "I did see what I was looking for," he murmured, grabbing the chain from around her neck and ripping it off.

Instead of the common charm or jewel on necklaces, it was a vile, the glass similiar in color and style, filled halfway with a light colored sand. The Sand. The Sand that might be able to save his father, and help him put an end to this dreadful mess.

"Dastan please," she began to plead, making him smile slightly yet again. How quick her moods were to change. One minute she was yelling at him for doing some stupid thing or other, and the next she was pleading with him, almost willing to do anything to get him to do what she wanted. "I know I haven't been completely honest with you, but you must understand. I am a Guardian of a long and everlasting covenant. I cannot let the Dagger out of my sight. Please." He looked at her, and for the first time, he saw real worry and fright in her eyes. It almost seemed that he would be tearing her child away from her if he took the Dagger with him. Well, so be it.

"Ah..." he said dramtically while she was poorly explaining her case, pretending to look completely convinced with what she was saying as he filled the Sand Glass with the Sand from the vile that Tamina had generously donated. She wasn't buying it. He turned to leave, gesturing to Amar to take over, the Dagger, hiding away safely in his belt.

"Please, Dastan! You can't do this! This is not what the gods intended!" she yelled across the room to him, though with little hope.

"Your gods, not mine!" he proclaimed waving his finger at her as he exited the tunnel, no doubt to leave her in the Valley of Slaves and return to Alamut.

He had betrayed her. Yet again. Every time he did this, she would feel anger swell inside her, but she felt hurt more, something that she rarely felt in the company of a man, a Persian no less.

She didn't know why she didn't want him to abandon her. Yes, she did not want to be left to the dogs and whatever they would do to her. Yes, she was afraid for the Dagger and its well being. No, she did not expect to feel hurt at the fact that he wasn't there. What was happening to her?

Tamina knew that he was attractive, there was no getting around it, but she had always been able to push away men who were blessed with looks with easiness. For some reason, she knew that his departure was not simply because he was handsome, but it was something else. The problem was that she honestly didn't know what it was or why it was making her act in this horrible and inappropriate way. She just knew that when he was at least there, even if they were screaming at one another, she felt a little more like herself. She would encourage the banter that they would go through day in and day out and always feel a little bit better by the end of it. And she would always be so eager to get away from him. But here she was saddened by the fact that this time, _he _wanted to get away from her.

The Alamutian shook her ebony head of hair, already having her mind set. No matter how confused she felt about Prince Dastan, there was no forgiveness in store for him. She hated him. He had betrayed her twice now, and he didn't seem to be worried about it in the slightest. Let him be fed to the gods and may the pain of his father tear his soul out. There was no room for him in her crowded life as a royal. She didn't want anything to do with him. Not ever. Not if she was going to feel like this every time he disappeared, which was quite often.

With one nod of finality, she turned to face the Sheik, however not finding him there. She wasn't even in the room that she had been in moments ago. Instead, intricate designs coated the stone walls and the glow from torches covered the area in a warm glow.

In her deep thought, she must have been led from the room, already being changed into a different set of robes.

"Here, put this on," she heard some woman say to her absently. The woman held out to her a circlet of cheap material. But erecting from the top of the circlet, sat two rather large ostrich feathers. It was a hideous piece of clothing, but Tamina had already given up of negociating her way out of wearing the silly thing.

Gingerly, as if she didn't know how to hold it, Tamina placed it delicately on her head, feeling like a peasant and a rather large idiot who didn't know how to properly dress.

With a quick glance at her new dress, she almost groaned with displeasure. It was a rather revealing article of clothing, and it made her feel terribly uncomfortable. She wanted desperately to grab a bed sheet or a cloak and cover herself, hiding from everyone's view.

"Take this. You will hand them out as people demand them. Not too hard to understand. Get a move on!" the same woman yelled, thrusting a serving plate filled with glasses of alcohol.

* * *

Dastan's smile faltered as he left the Princess to whatever torture that she would go through. He turned to look back at her, his fingers idly playing with the Dagger hiding in his belt.

He saw the Skeik give her a few words, but she didn't appear to be listening. Just like Tamina, Dastan thought with a smile. She never was one for listening to people who were giveing her words of advice. Though this time, she didn't even try to appear as if she was listening.

Two women came from the entrance of the small hall, ostrich feathers standing up proudly from their heads. It was quite a funny sight, but his eyes darted back to Tamina. She didn't appear to see them. What was wrong? Surely, she could not be that upset at the fact that he had taken the Dagger. Even though he knew how special the Dagger was, he had never seen Tamina look so worried before, or so deep in thought.

"Ah, there you are Persian," Amar said proudly, rubbing his hands together. "Come, we must hurry!" he said excitedly, walking ahead of Dastan, leaving the Prince to follow with a last glance at the disppearing Princess Tamina.

They stopped at the railings of the long dirt road that was seen from the journey to the city. People were running about, laughing and yelling and making fools out of themselves.

Then, with an eruption of sound, the crowd cheered further and at least eight ostriches ran along the dirt road, the long necks swaying back and forth as they ran, a small man perched on their feathered backs.

Realization dawned on Dastan and he turned to Amar who was clapping and cheering madly, shaking his plump fists at the riders and their steeds. "Oh, come on! Come on!" Amar yelled, his yellow teeth being proudly worn as the old man smiled.

"Ostrich racing," Dastan said slowly and quietly, giving small, slow nods. What would Tamina have to do with Ostrich racing?

"Every Tuesday and Thursday," Amar said once more as the over-sized birds crossed their marked finish line. He began walking out onto the road, clapping people on the back and laughing as they collected their money from their bets.

Dastan was confused. The Valley of Slaves was the place were he had had nightmares about, the place that everyone had nightmares about. This place was supposed to be the land of Hell itself. And yet, here everyone was laughing and places bets on ostriches of all things. "But the stories? I've heard all the rumors about this place!" he yelled over the crowd of people.

"About slaves killing their masters in their sleep? Yeah, we had to do that to keep the Empire off of us." Amar got a serious look in his brown eye as he wrapped an arm around Dastan, as if he were about to tell him a secret. "I have been doing everything in my power to keep away the horrible deeds and devilish makings from this place. The things that nobody dares to talk about and everybody is terrified out of their wits from." He looked down at Dastan, who was more confused than ever. "Do you know what I'm talking about, Persian?" he asked, poointing a finger into the Prince's chest.

Dastan shook his head quickly, waiting for the Sheik to continue.

"Taxes," he said, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "All of these Persians, with all of their roads and buildings and construction projects. And do you know who pays for it? The small business man! So, for all these years, I put up this false rumor about this place, tax collectors stay away from me, and everyone is happy!" he said.

The Prince nodded, understanding this. Even though Dastan didn't pay taxes, he knew very well that they were not a pleasant thing to deal with. "But what about the skeletons that are just at the entrance to the valley?" he asked. He was sure that there was a logical explanation, but still, it made him wonder.

"Are gypsies imported from Balaria," Amar finished, walking on.

Another burst of sound exploded through the air, and the next thing Dastan knew, everyone was running to the sides, throwing open the gates in the fences, Dastan still exploring what he had just heard. He turned around when the ground began to tremble and saw another group of eight ostriches running to him, ready to run him over.

With just enough time, Dastan was able to get behind the closest gate, and saw Amar cheering wildly for the birds. "Oh, I love this!" he heard Amar yell over the crowd.

The Persian Prince turned around, just in time to see the winner: a small man on an ostrich.

He looked back up at Amar who was again yelling. "Hey! Hey get the girls on! Come on!" he yelled. Dastan looked over to where a gate was opening and about a dozen or so young women flooded out, trays of glasses in their hands.

He couldn't help but notice Tamina standing in the crowd of girls. Dastan was glad that the noise of all of the people around him were able to disguise the audible gulp he had made when he saw her. A fair portion of her skin was exposed and the ostrich feathers looked terribly fitting on her head.

Men reached out, either grabbing the mugs of alcohol, or trying to get a feel of Tamina's skin. She wasn't enjoying that, and Dastan wasn't either, to be quite honest. What right did they think that they had to be able to touch her in the way that they were trying to? It was a crime!

"Crowd control! Crowd control! Don't look at me like that! You know that look! That will be coming out of your wages! Crowd control!" Amar screamed, and it was then that Dastan realized that his words were directed at the Princess. It was rather funny to see her glare at them both and be completely startled when another man tried to grab her.

Amar turned back to Dastan who was still looking at Tamina, wondering if he should intervene or let her sort it out for herself. "Yes, I think that she will make a nice addition to the girls," Sheik Amar said, looking back down at her.

One man grabbed Tamina quite furiously, and Dastan felt his hand move to his sword. No matter how much he could hate the Princess some times, there were just some things that he would not tolerate. Her being violated was one of them. But he smiled nonetheless when she grabbed a glass and threw its contents in the man's face, successfully getting him to let go of her.

"Oh, she's fiesty, that one," Amar said with a small chuckle. "Where'd you find her?"

Dastan tore his eyes away from Tamina, looking at Amar, trying to think of a suitable answer. "Oh, I went into the city to trade in a camel, and there she was," he lied. Now that he had said it, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he wouldn't have said two camels instead of one.

Amar nodded thoughtfully. Then, with sudden jerkiness, his hand stretched out, grabbing Dastan's face. "You know, you bear a remarkable resemblance to the Prince of Persia who killed the King," he said harshly, studying the face. He let go after a moment, and Dastan groaned when he saw Seso come alongside Amar. He made a goofy looking smile and turned to run away.

Just as he began to descend the rickety stairs, a knife hurtled itself at him, striking the sleeve of his jacket and sticking it to a pole.

"And what a story you told!" Amar continued, coming up behind Dastan. "The girl, oh come on, one camel? She was at least worth two..." he paused. "There is quite a large reward on your head from the King right now. I'd trade my mother in for that type of gold," he said after a moment. Seso looked curiously at Amar, almost alarmed that he would say such a thing. "You don't know what she was like," he said absentmindedly to Seso, who only shrugged.

Seso came quickly to Dastan and began looking through his coat and jacket, Dastan guessing only for valuables. His hand stopped on the Dagger, and Dastan nearly cursed. Seso tore it out of his belt and examined it, Amar taking a geat interest in it as well, both of them mesmerized by its uniqueness and its beauty.

"That-That's worthless," Dastan said quickly as Seso handed over the Dagger to Amar, who studied it even more intently.

"Uh-huh," Amar said, nodding. He turned and held it over the railing. "Take it to the jeweler's to melt it down." Then without another word, the Skeik dropped it, and Dastan asumed that some fellow caught it and was hurrying off to the ovens with the priceless Dagger.

Then, there was a commotion, one that was even louder than it had been during the short races. People were screaming, and he could hear the sound of swords hitting the sandy ground with clinks from the metal.

Looking over the rail, Dastan saw all of the ostriches had been released from their small cage and the weapons were being thrown every which way by a certain Princess. Thank God she had seen what was going on!

Dastan quickly divested himself of his jacket and began running down the stairs, in search of the man who held the Dagger.

Spotting the man quickly, Dastan ran, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he would press the jewel on the hilt and turn everything backwards, leaving no Sand left in the sacred container, leaving Dastan back at the beginning.

The man bit at the red jewel, trying with all his might to tear it off, but to no avail. Then, just before he was able to press the jewel, Dastan came, grabbing the Dagger and looking at the man. "Oh, you really don't want to do that!" For good measure, Dastan elbowed the man in the face, knocking him out.

Then, the Prince ran. Tamina appeared by his side in almost an instant, and they were running to get out, Amar and Seso already noticing their absence and running after them with guards on their heels.

"Close the gate!" was all that they heard, and both somehow found the enrgy to run faster. The gate in front of them was closing fast, and a man had just come out of nowhere and was battling Dastan furiously, making the Prince pause to finish off the villian.

With a quick move, Tamina rolled under the closing gate, only to realize that she did not have the Dagger and Dastan was still in there.

Finishing off the man, Dastan ran to the gate, looking at her urgently. "Press the lever!" he said, gesturing just behind her.

"Give me the Dagger," she said, not moving an inch towards the lever. Behind him, she saw Amar and Seso running, Seso poising to throw a knife.

He looked over his shoulder and saw what she was seeing, his blue eyes widening as his mind obviously went to how badly this could end up for him. "Now-now is not the time! Press the lever!" he exclaimed, his voice more and more desperate.

"Give me the Dagger!" she yelled back, Amar and Seso getting closer and closer, yelling curses on their way.

Dastan looked annoyed, and he swung his sword through the bars, the sharp tip missing her my only inches. She gasped, ready to feel pain in her stomach any second, but it didn't come.

He stuck his hand through the grate, and she heard the jingling of keys.

"Don't think it didn't cross my mind," he said, turning the key in the hole next to the gate and beginning to lift the gate.

She turned around then and saw a dead man, right there. He had killed a man to save her. What did that mean?

"Dastan, hurry!" she screamed, coming back to what really mattered at the moment, Seso just entering knife throwing distance.

He exclaimed in pain as the gate resisted him, but once up, he tore the key from lock and walked under the gate, slamming it down just in time, Seso and Amar arriving there just then, ranting and raving, their arms reaching through the small holes of the gate, trying to wrench the keys out from Dastan's grasp.

"You bloody Persian!" he heard Amar say.

"You want these?" Dastan asked, hoisting the keys in the air and flaunting them off to the captives. Then quite on purpose, he dropped them five feet away from the gate itself. "Oops," he said cheekily.

"Come on," he heard Tamina say, and he quickly followed, rushing to the stable to get Aksh. The further they got away from the Valley in the fastest amount of time, the better.

"That was fun," Dastan said cheekily once that situated themselves in the saddle, his breath beginning to return to normal.

"Only you would be able to say that, Dastan," she said, shaking her head, though obviously quite filled with adrenaline from the day's events.

* * *

**Well, here we are. Quite early too! Just a quick note, I am not sure where the gypsies were from, so don't expect that particular quote to be completely right there. **

**And this is officially my longest chapter! Over 5500 words! Woo hoo! That was a lot of fun writing. **

**This chapter, I know that some of you guys are more revolved around the descriptions of places, and that is cool, because I like that too. But in this chapter there was just so much going on and it was all fast-paced so there really wasn't a whole lot of time to fit that stuff in there. But don't worry. I think that next chapter we should be able to have a little bit more descriptions, so stay tuned!**

**And for all of you Dastan/Tamina fans, I hope you liked this chapter, had a whole bunch of puzzling thoughts from both of them, you know? Next chapter, I think that we'll be able to study their growing feelings for each other a little bit more, which should be fun! **

**Reviews are appreciated, my friends! And I will see you next chapter or in a review!**


	8. Funeral of a Father part one

**Hi everyone! How are things? I am sorry that it has taken me this long to update. I really need to work on that, don't I? School just started up recently, and holy crap! Teachers, I am convinced, don't want students to have any time to themselves. EVEN ON BREAK! It makes me so mad! But what can you do, right? **

**Kay, I have decided that this chapter is going to be a two-parter. There is so much stuff going on with the King's funeral, and I don't really want to be writing a ten-thousand word chapter, cause I know that that might be just a smidge longer than you have anticipated. **

**Expect a little less Dastan/Tamina this chapter, but I do hope that I can communicate their confused feelings just a little. **

**And reviews! They make me the happiest person in the world! Please review, I like knowing what everyone thinks. _And a shout out to Spanish Angel who was my 50th reviewer! Big guns now guys... Let's see who gets to 100 first! They get a shout out... if that's a good bribe... hehe... _**

**And it has come to my attention that some people don't like it when I ask for reviews. I understand that it can be a little annoying sometimes, but you have to understand that if I am under the impression that no one reads my story (or is not liking it) I loose my inspiration to write. I apologize if it is pissing you off, but I honestly don't see a reason to complain about something that minute at least to the readers. **

**Now, onto the story at last...**

* * *

Dastan sat on his firm, black stallion, feeling the warm desert breeze seep into his skin and rejuvenate his bones. The sound of the horse's heavy pants filled his ears, and he could almost taste the hot, desert air in his mouth. The clear, blue sky filled his vision as it sat beautifully as the backdrop of the towering dunes surrounding him.

Tamina sat behind him on the saddle, her arms holding him around his middle tightly and her chest pressed against his back.

All of his senses were filled with the desert. Except one. Tamina. Her smell wafted through his nose in the most antogonizing way possible, driving him absolutely crazy. She smelt like hazelnuts and cool water... It was the most wonderful thing that had ever entered his nose! Though there was something else, something that seemed impossible to name. It was so smooth like silk, though silk could not possibly have its own scent, could it? Perhaps it was just a smell that only Tamina could have. Her smell.

He shook his head, and looked around him, trying to focus on anything but the smell that was softly emanting off of the Alamutian Princess, who just happened to be holding him around his waist... No! Stop it! She isn't your type! He shook his head again, trying to feel the rythym of Aksh's breath beneath him.

"Something the matter, Prince?" he heard Tamina ask into his ear, making him shiver slightly.

"Whatever could be the matter?" he asked foolishly. What was happening to him? Surely, he could not be falling for this woman. Oh, God, he hoped he wasn't.

"That's the second time you have shaken your head. Something must be troubling you," she said, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. Well, in a way, it was.

Dastan hurried to think of an answer. He just had to keep his thoughts away from her, and if he was able to do that, then that was all that mattered. "Thinking of my father. And his betrayal." Now that he had said it, it succeeded to comsume his entire thought. His own son, who was so eager to take the crown, had killed his father, in one of the most painful ways possible. It made Dastan sick that he had ever called the bloody bastard family. "I need to get a message to my uncle." Nizam would be the only one that he could trust. His father had always said that it was the bond of brotherhood that kept the country together. Nizam was probably just as crushed as Dastan was, and he would be just as eager to get to the bottom for his father's murder.

Tamina snorted in a very un-Princessy-like manner. Dastan could just picture her eyes rolling in disbelief. "How would you propose doing that?" she asked, amusement hidden in her voice.

"I am going to need to go to my father's funeral. That would be the only way to see him," Dastan said thoughtfully, bringing the horse to a stop on a small cliff, looking down into the a valley. Below them, a thousand feet down, was a long caravan, horses and wagons and others who were on their way to Avrat, where the funeral was to be held.

Sitting there, and seeing all of the people around him, Dastan smiled weakly. He had always known that his father had been one of the greatest Kings Persia had ever seen. And he knew that many people loved his father, but seeing so many silently trekking to his funeral to celebrate his life had been heart-warming. He was so loved, by everyone. Everyone had prospered and was happy. But that wasn't enough for Tus, Dastan thought sourly.

Even though several days had passed since his father's untimely death, the young Prince still would feel a knife in the heart whenever he thought of Tus and his actions. They had been brothers!

"They've all come for my father's funeral," Dastan said softly, turning his thoughts back to the hundreds of people below. "I need to get a message to Nizam. He is the only one I can trust," he explained.

"How do you plan on doing that with hundreds of guards looking for you?" Tamina asked softly, her voice but a whisper. She seemed to realize that now was not the time to tease or insult the young, troubled Prince. And for that, he was grateful.

"I will have a plan when the time comes," he replied, not knowing at all how he was going to manage. There were just as many guards as Tamina had said, and no doubt, all of them would be on the look-out for Dastan. He couldn't blame them; he had fled from the scene, which would make him appear as the probable murderer.

"There are going to be dozens of Persian guards just at the entrance to Avrat alone. How do you expect to get past them and then everyone else inside?" she asked, curiousity unable to mask itself in her high voice.

He decided to ignore her question for the moment, only turning to smile mischievously at her.

They made their way down a gentle slope into the valley that the mourners were walking coming to rest right behind a large rock that shaded them from their enemies and the sun.

"All of these royal dignitries," Dastan said, turning to the Princess who was watching the crowd with shrewd eyes. She turned her gaze to him. "I'm guessing you know a few."

"No, Dastan. I am not going to sneak into the company of someone who might recognize me," she told him sternly.

"The price on my head is higher than yours. If I think that I can get in there and out without being detected, God knows that you will be able to manage just fine."

She glared at him for a moment, her decision final, but Dastan simply stared back, standing his ground. She sighed and her shoulders fell, and she turned her head back to the long line of people. That had to be the first time that he had ever been able to win in a staring contest with her. It was not often that the Princess of Alamut did not get her way. What an interesting turn of events. "Fine. But I get to choose," she told him teasingly, a small glint in her eye that looked only like the devil's work. So Tamina did have a playful side; again, he was learning something new about her everyday. Perhaps if he had not been the one to raid her palace and city, they would have had the ability to become rather good friends in time. Though that theory would have seemed impossible onlya few days ago, it wasn't that far of a stretch now that Dastan had gotten to know her a little bit better.

Coming back to the moment, he nodded, not caring about who he was going to accompany into Avrat, just as long as he got in. He watched as she nonchalantly came out from behind the rock that sheltered them and walked straight up to a group. She talked for several moments and then received a handful of clothes, men's and women's. The small group stopped, the leader being set down.

Tamina returned quickly and handed him the clothes, telling him to change quickly.

* * *

"Couldn't you have found somebody lighter?" Dastan grunted, hoisting a man that had to be 1000 pounds on his shoulders, along with five other men whose muscles were even more strained than his from the elongated journey. Dastan didn't know how they were able to stand that much weight and not be crushed from exhaustion.

"They are a very wealthy people. You should be honored," she responded, handing the obese man a peanut, the old man concentrating carefully on cracking it with his nutcracker, the sun beaming off of the shiny metal right into the young Prince's eyes. Dastan had figured that he wouldn't have gotten one of the greatest dignitaries to act as his cover-up, but he never thought that Tamina could be _that _ruthless.

The man above him began flicking the remains of the peanut out of his metal device, hitting Dastan in the face several times. "Oh, yes. Terribly," he grunted, spitting out pieces of destroyed nuts.

Tamina slowly back up, allowing him to broadside her. She tried to look calm, though he could see the nervousness in her eyes. Breaking the law was obviously not one of her stronger suits. "Dastan, where's the Dagger?" she asked under her breath.

The Prince smiled cheekily. "You're welcome to search me for it. You'll have to be very thorough," he said with a hint of seductiveness. He looked over at her to see a look of pure horror and disgust etched across her beautiful face.

"You disgust me," she hissed, handing the dicitator another peanut.

"You've told me that a couple of times," he responded with a smug smile.

"Only because you do," she said, and if Dastan wasn't looking carefully enough, he could have sworn that he saw the slightest tinge of pink on her tanned cheeks. Was that even possible?

"No doubt one of my many flaws," he heaved.

"'Many' would be the right word for it," she said matter-of-factly, making him wince slightly.

"Well, at least we agree on something," he said, not sure as how to take her earlier comment. What else was wrong with him?

She gave a small nod, not meeting his eyes. "Look down!" she hissed suddenly. "There are some guards that are coming by!" She quickly looked down, pretending to be a young girl who was being sexually exploited. And she was, she thought. Her top dress was next to nothing, and it made her blush when she thought about when she had shown Dastan how she looked. His eyes had widened slightly and then tried to regain his composure. And whenever he looked at her, she had to stifle a shiver that would creep its way down her spine.

Tamina was furious with herself. Why was she acting this way around the man who had destroyed her city? Why would she even thinhk about how beautiful his eyes were, or how peaceful he looked when he slept, or how fierce he looked when defending himself. No! Stop, stop, stop! She shook her head furiously, trying to get rid of those thoughts.

The Princess resolved that if she saw the Dagger on Dastan, she was going to take it and run. She couldn't risk being with this man anymore, for a number of reasons. One, he was a dangerous man, who refused to take no for an answer. Two, she had to protect the Dagger, and she would not trust herself to allow the Dagger to stay in his reach. Third, she didn't know how she felt around him, and whenever she wasn't in control of a situation, Tamina would never feel fully comfortable. Maybe that was because of her social status, but she knew that if she felt this way, she needed to get away.

As they made their way into the over-crowded city, more and more people were to be found. Every step the two camoflauged monarchs took, they were sure that they could not encounter any more people than they already had. And they continuously were proven wrong. Mothers were weeping and the children who knew what was going on sat next to their mothers, trying their best to cheer them up, but to no avail.

Most of the men were in uniform, patrolling the streets, trying their hardest to keep everything in order with as little disturbance of the peace as possible. But it was a little difficult due to the thousands of people who had decided to attend the beloved King's funeral.

Dastan conspiculously took hold of Tamina's hand, pulling her slowly away from the caravan and went to find something close to isolation. It was only then that he realized just how perfect her hand was. It fit perfectly inside of his and was warm and soft compared to his rough and calloused fingers.

Changing quickly back into less colorful clothing, they came out into the crowd, meandering their way through, careful not to make any eye contact with anyone around them. Though luck was in their favor, as no one paid much attention to them.

Eventually, they found themselves on one of the upper levels of the city, looking down at all of the other inhabitants scurrying about chaotically.

Dastan pulled his blue-green hood up over his head, shielding his eyes the best he could. "Tus isn't here," he observed as the caravan with his family passed by. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tamina make a quick glance at him, almost in worry. "He must have stayed in Alamut. The Sand! The Sand that goes to the Dagger. There's more of it in Alamut, isn't there?" he asked, turning to the Princess. She stiffened and continued peeringn off into the crowds, ignoring him. But Dastan could read the discomfort on her beautiful face, and knew that what he had said was true. "That's what Tus is after. He could become the greatest King that Persia has ever seen, even better than my father! I have to get a message to Nizam. He will understand," he said carefully, fingering the loose strands on his hood.

She shook her head violently, meerly staring out into the unpenetrable crowd of mourners. "That's impossible."

But he was wasn't listening. He turned around and jumped off of the roof, landing on another one successfully. He had always prided himself on being quite the acrobat.

He skillfully mingled his way into the crowd, weaving in and out, avoiding eye-contact with anyone he pushed aside. He knew that he was going to get suspicious looks from everyone, but he didn't have the time to act sincere and sad. He needed to see his uncle, and there was a very small window of oppotunity, and he was going to be damned if he wasn't able to do what he set out to.

Dastan came to a halt, hiding behind an ornate pillar, watching as the caravan drew closer and closer. He could see the kohl on his uncle's eyes. The familiar brown orbs were cold and hard, unblinking as he passed by the crowd around him. Garsiv looked like he was barely managing at keeping himself together. His face was hard, chin sticking up in the air in a sort of proud gesture. But Dastan knew better. He had seen that same face on his brother's face whenever their father would scold him. Garsiv would refuse to cry, refuse to appear hurt. He always had to be indifferent.

As it passed, the young Prince knew what he had to do. He had to be quick and unnoticed. The consequences of being caught could very well be fatal, and that wasn't what he wanted.

Swiftly, he jumped through the opening of the caravan, the gold curtains proving to be the perfect mask. No one saw him, and inside, he finally let out a sigh of relief. The hardest part had been accomplished. He turned his head, out of habit and looked down to see his father. Or rather, the solid golden encasement of his father. The face had been beautifully carved, every golden hair perfectly in place. He almost had to give out a chuckle at this. If anyone knew his father, they would know that the likihood that his father's beard would be clean and combed was next to nothing. It would always be disheveled, or always having fingers running through the gray hair in concentration. Dastan would miss that.

He bowed his head to his father, wishing that all of this would just go away. He didn't want this. He didn't want to have to sneak away from his people and his family out of shame and fear. He wanted to see his father's smiling face again. God, he would do anything to get back to that moment, refuse to let his father wear the robe. But it was too far in the past to do anything about it. He would always hear the last words of his father, ringing in his head_, Why_? Why had his son wanted to kill him? He didn't! Oh, how he wanted to tell his father that he was innocent, and he would never in his darkest dreams think of something as dreadful and as heartbreaking as that. He couldn't live without his father. The only man he had ever known to care about him, besides his brothers. The man who had put social status aside to save the little boy who had been left at the curb with not a penny to his name. He was grateful to his father, and without him, encouraging him, or giving him words of advice, Dastan really did feel alone. He didn't even have his brothers or uncle to vouch for him. Well, he was about to change that. His uncle would believe him. The same itelliegence that ran through his father's ran through his, and Dastan was confident that Nizam would know exactly what needed to be done in order to get his father's crown off of his brother's head and placed on someone's who was more responsible and caring about thier family.

Brushing aside the tears, Dastan grabbed hold of a small makeshift pen, and pulled out a piece of scrap paper. He minded the jostling of the carriage and quickly scribbled down a message, folding it up when he was done. He cautiously looked out and saw his uncle riding next to him, eyes trained on the road ahead, still unblinking. He couldn't imagine that pain that his uncle was going through. His poor brother and uncle. So unknowingn to what was really going on around them. They were just part of a play that Tus had to see the end of.

As fast as he could, he located a small pocket on his uncles robes and shoved the parchment inside, disappearing out of the side of the caravan when they neared a wall with less people.

He had done it. He had successfully gotten the message to his uncle. And at this, he succumbed to more of his grief, not caring much about what needed to be done now. He had done what he needed to do, and for the moment, Dastan was alright with relaxing and grieving for his lost father.

* * *

Tamina stood underneath an archway, looking out at the funeral. It was a lovely funeral, she noted, one really, truly fit for a King. People tenderly throwing out groups of flowers when their lost monarch passed by. As the caravan passed by her, she looked after it, and if she would have blinked, she would have missed it. A tan, strong hand crept out of the curtains and dropped a piece of folded parchment into the pocket of Nizam. He had done it.

A strong sense of relief washed over her, and she couldn't exactly tell why. Was it because she didn't want him to get caught? Because then, her own fate would certainly be determined with his, and she had the foreboding feeling that he would not be treated with mercy. Was it because he had the Dagger on his person, and the fact that he had not gotten caught had ensured the fact that their enemy did not have it? Or was it just the dangerousness of the mission he pursued? What if she didn't want him to get hurt? Was she worried about his destiny? What if he did get hurt? Where would that leave her?

She shook her head, trying desperately to get those devilish thoughts out of her rebellious mind. No. She couldn't care less about him. She was going to abandon him soon anyway, as soon as she had the Dagger with her. She was only relieved because of the Dagger. True, it probably wasn't the best idea to have Dastan in possession of the Dagger in the first place, but it was certainly better than having someone like his brother, Tus, have it. She trusted the youngest Prince much more than Persia's newest King. She knew Dastan. And even though she was going to go behind her companion's back to escape, she knew that he would never betray her. He would stay at her side, ready at a whim to protect her from some undying evil that tried to claim the best of her or the people around him. He always had to be the hero. The bastard. Why did he have to be that chivalrous? It certainly wasn't helping her settle her mixed feelings.

"Difficult, not impossible," she heard his voice whisper close to her ear. Why was she the unlucky girl to have to be stuck with him? What had she done to deserve such a punishment? For whatever it was, she was most sorry.

"How did you even manage?" she asked. Even though she had no desire to get any closer to him, she had to admit that she was terribly curious as to how he had done it. With hundreds of people around, and not even a hair on the back of someone's neck rising. He had been completely invisible.

"Agility and speed," he answered casually, as if talking about the weather. But she knew better. She looked into his blue eyes, and saw the pain that he had been so desperately trying to hide from her. They were clouded over, as if reliving a memory or a face. His thin lips were set in a hard line, like everything was just going to explode if he slacked the pressure on his lips at all. His jaw too, had been set hard, teeth and fists clenched. She hated seeing him this way. He looked so sick, and the young Princess had to refuse the urge to hold him in her arms. She wanted his pain to go away. The funeral turned the smug man in front of her into a stone, hard and cold.

"I'm sorry, Dastan," she said comfortingly. He only shook his head, refusing to meet her brown gaze. He couldn't look at her right now. He would die. He would crumple into a helpless ball and weep. He couldn't let that happen.

* * *

_It had been a whole year since his parents had left him. The old stone house he had been born in had gone into forclosure and been torn down. It left the small little boy helpless and homeless. _

_Dastan sat on the ledge of a rooftop, staring at the golden sun as it set behind the building and the sand dunes beyond, leaving the world cold in its wake. Leaving Dastan cold... _

_He pulled his thin legs to his chest and looked down, as if scared that someone was going to come up and steal him. _

_That's what his mother had always said. **"If you stay out too late, then bad men will come and get you, and take you away and lock you in a cage..." **He didn't want that to happen. He was a good little boy and was only tyring to stay out of everbody's way. He didn't need the attention that the baker would give him when he would pitifully ask for a slice of bread. He didn't need it either when the cashier would look at him strangely when he would hand over a silver coin for an apple. He didn't even try the butcher. Meat was expensive, and only rich merchants would get to buy anything from that gruffy, old man. And Dastan was a far cry from rich. He didn't even have enough money to qualify as a poor person. Just homeless and without a mother and father. _

_Dastan quickly brushed aside the tears that were forming in his stinging eyes. He bit his lower lip, which had been bitten into night after night, leaving a bloody scab. Just to stop the trembling. He rocked himself back anf forth on his feet, trying to focus on anything but his orphaned self. _

_That's what his father had always said. **"Even if you are sad and want to cry, don't. It won't do a bit of good, It'll only give you the hiccups. Be strong. Be brave like a man." **He couldn't let his father down. Even if his father had been the one to test his strength, Dastan was not about the give up on the hope that one day, his mother and father would come home, saying what a terrible mistake they had made in leaving him to the run down orphanage, no. They would apologize to him for leaving him on the street. He would be strong. He would be brave like man. He wouldn't show anyone his tears. He would be like the stone that his father was. _

* * *

Dastan would be a stone. Just like his real father. The King of Persia would say not to grieve. His real father would say to be brave. He would not grieve, in fear of disappointing the only good father he had ever known. He would be brave, for the father who had left him.

* * *

**Alright, there's that chapter! Yay! I did it! And just over 4500 words. And I will try my hardest to not let too much time go by between updates. It is going to be hard, but I will try. Just for you people. :) **

**Again, this chapter is a two-parter, just because there is so much going on here. **

**Reviews? Love you guys!**


	9. Funeral of a Father Part Two

***peeks head out from behind corner* Hi... Yeah, I'm a little late on updating... And yeah, I'm not even going to try to apologize. There is nothing that I can say that can explain my terribleness as an author on fanfiction. **

**Remember, this one was a two-parter, and though I am sure all of you hate my guts right now, reviews are nice... We have 75 right now, peeps. I have the greatest audience in the world! And 12 reviews for one chapter alone! *sniffles* It makes me want to cry with happiness... There are some 8 chapter stories that only have FIVE reviews, and here... WOW! I LOVE YOU ALL! **

**So... I guess before I finally give you guys the chapter, I have to say... This is my least favorite here. I think this chapter is my absolute worst-I wrote it all in one night because I had the sudden urge to, so it isn't as well thought out and stuff like that. I hope you guys still like it, but like I said... I am really angry with how this chapter turned out. Just a head's up. **

**HERE IT IS! AT LAST!**

* * *

"Dastan?" a distant voice questioned softly. "Dastan?" it asked once more. His arm shook, slowly bringing him back to consciousness. "Dastan!"

The blue eyes of the youngest Prince of Persia cleared, and everything that had happened came rushing back to him. "What?" he snapped at the voice, just willing it to go away.

"Turn around!" it said. It was Tamina. Dastan's eyes locked with hers for the briefest moment before he registered what she was saying to him.

"What?" he asked once more, just to be sure.

"Turn around!" she said, louder this time. She gestured to a dark teal cloak in her hands, the ends of the fabric tattered and worn. Dastan rushed in turning around and helped her push the cloth onto his broad shoulders. He turned back to her, pulling the fabric over his head like a hood.

He stared at her, analyzing her every move. He didn't know what was making him feel the way that he was, but he was almost positive that she was up to something. And right now, well... He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to be a part of it or not.

Tamina could feel his eyes burning into her, but she fought not to make eye contact. The Princess was sure that he would notice that kind of behavior, as he was rather too observant, but she had to chance it. Her eyes would tell him everything, and that was not what she wanted.

As soon as he had turned around, she had caught the sight of the Dagger, its hilt giving off a small rainbow onto the wall nearby. Left plain out in the open! He was such a moron! She had taken the Dagger quickly, switching it with another satchel that she had put together while he was getting a message to his uncle.

_Why are you betraying him? After all that he's done for you_? something snarled at her. Tamina tried her best to tune out the voice, already knowing that it was her conscience, and she had no intent of listening to it. It had gotten her into this mess-telling her to go with Dastan on his little escapade. She had told herself multiple times already that she had gone only for the Dagger and its safety.

_I am not betraying him_! she hissed back, ignoring the continuous stare she was getting from Dastan_. He had this coming! He marches into my city like he is the one sitting on the throne, and then steals the Dagger! I have every right to want to get away from him! He is vile and dangerous_! she defended once more, practically hearing the voice snickering inside her head.

_I didn't know that sneaking into a city and killing guards was how you communicated that you were the authority figure, _it continued, snickering.

Tamina ignored the little voice and finally gained enough courage to look up at Dastan, not really that surprised when she saw that he hadn't taken his eyes off of her.

"What do you want?" she asked snarkily, giving him the best glare she could muster.

Dastan chuckled, finally looking away, then turned back looking slightly smug. "Internal battle?" he asked, almost making Tamina stumble backwards. How did he know?

"When have I ever battled with myself?" she asked, annoyed.

"Well, it looked like the one you just had was a little serious..." he cheekily replied, his blue orbs dancing in jest.

It took everything in Tamina to not smirk then and there. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, there were times when he could be rather funny, and then there were times that you would think that he had never smiled a day in his life. But right now, she was glad to see that he was happy. Well...glad may not have been the right word for it, but she was certainly...satisfied...satisfied that he did not want to bite her head off like he seemed so regularly wanted to do. He was a much more agreeable person when he was happy.

Focusing back on him, she slowly replied, trying her hardest to remain as serious as possible, "And when would you ever think that **_I _**was a serious person, Dastan?"

And for once, he laughed, a full bellow-y laugh. She had heard him chuckle and perhaps giggle, but never once had she heard him laugh. It was most definitely one of the most incredible sounds she had ever heard, so full and warm. Though she would not admit that, of course. He sounded happier than he had in a long, long time. Well, happier than he had the day his father was murdered.

But she could not let him have his peace and happiness for too long. She still hated him, she told herself. _You hate him. You hate, hate, hate him._

_No, you don't, _the voice added cheerfully.

"You had better be quiet! You are attracting attention, and the Gods know that we don't need that right now. So just be quiet and go talk to your uncle," she chastised, and _almost _to her dismay, the stupidly happy look on his face evaporated and was replaced by the seriousness of the situation. It wasn't a laughing matter, to say the least.

Dastan nodded, determined, not fully understanding what was going to happen. She was going to leave him to, what she believed, a certain death. He gave her a sad smile, obviously still a little worried about what he was going to have to do. She didn't blame him.

She watched as he turned away from her and began walking through the crowds, making his way to a little fruit shop where his uncle would be waiting. Tamina was supposed to follow, but stand across the street and make sure that he would get through the family reunion.

The Alamutian Princess did not follow. She turned and walked away, weaving her way through the thick crowds and as far away from Dastan as she could manage. He was going to find out soon that she had taken the Dagger. But she had vowed that she would be long gone by then.

She stepped out of Avrat, Aksh walking at her side, Dastan and his destiny in his "capable hands".

So then why was it so hard? Why did she want to turn around and run after him and make sure that he was alright-that he got through his uncle, Nizam, and he was going to be alright through this whole ordeal? Why did she want to hear him laugh again, or see him look at her again, or even _glare _at her again? Why?

"Ugh!" she said, turning to the horse to appeared shocked by her small outburst. "Why is this so hard?" she questioned it, not knowing exactly how she was expecting the animal to answer-but she wanted and answer. "It seems as if I have feelings for him, but at the same time, I hate him because of all of the things that he has done to me and my city! What am I supposed to do about this?"

* * *

Dastan ran through the crowds, trying his best to get away from the ambush. It wasn't his brother who had murdered his father. It had been his uncle. Oh, how he had wanted to die when he saw Nizam's burnt hands. Damn bad excuse he gave too, _Trying to pull the cloak off your father._ Nothing mattered to his "uncle". Even the story of the two young monarchs as children had not changed the heart of the terrible old man!

And now, the youngest, innocent Prince of Persia, was running for his life.

Guards. Everywhere! No matter which way Dastan turned to escape them, there always seemed to be another group, ready to kill him.

Successfully, he had managed to weasel out of a few groups, even pulling a tent down on one and dragging another with said tent.

"Kill him! He's the traitor!" Dastan heard, and the sound nearly stopped his heart all together. It was his brother, Garsiv.

"I didn't kill Father!" Dastan screamed over his shoulder to his older brother. He knew that no matter how much Dastan pleaded or how much evidence he had, Garsiv wouldn't believe him. His brother had never been one to forgive easily.

But now, that didn't matter. Dastan was running for his life.

He ran.

And ran.

He ran into a small palace, trying his best to meander his way in and out of the halls and away from his brother. Dastan knew that it wasn't going to help much, though. Garsiv was one of Persia's finest trackers, and though there wasn't any dust or dirt that the middle Prince could base his judgements off of, he knew that it was only a matter of time before Garsiv would locate Dastan, and then he would die for sure.

"Ah!" he screamed, his muscles tearing as he hoisted himself up on a banister. Even though chances of living were slim, Dastan knew that he needed to at least try to get out of there unharmed. Or only mildly harmed.

"Oh!" Women. At least a dozen of them, just sitting there in front of him, in their colorful clothes, looking up at him through their matching veils.

Dastan couldn't help but blush as he looked down on the ladies. They were women, after all. He smiled down at them, and then he continued running, his mind remembering what was really going on, and mysteriously going to Tamina's face for the briefest of moments.

Garsiv looked up to the banister, not feeling that surprised when he heard the giggling of girls. Garsiv almost had to chuckle. Dastan was always the womanizer of the family.

Though that was not what was important right now. His brother, the boy that he had looked after for all of those years, had killed his father. Dastan wasn't even part of the family, and here he was, thinking that he was going to have a chance at the throne anyways. Garsiv's father had, out of the goodness in his old heart, taken in Dastan from the streets, raising him in the palace and making him into one of his own sons. But that wasn''t enough for Dastan. No. He had decided, for whatever reasons, that his father wasn't good enough. And he had killed the one man who had loved him the most and who had done the most for him in his life.

Dastan continued running, all through the halls, occasionally catching sight of Garsiv looking frantically for him. Dastan had little time. Anxiously, he looked below him to the first level of the building and saw a guard. A solitary guard. Perfect.

"Hey." Dastan jumped down onto the first floor, his limbs stretched out like a predatory bird's. His body crashed with the unsuspecting man beneath him, knocking him unconscious due to the impact. Dastan rushed to grab the sword but his hands only had time to take the scabbard off of the man's belt.

"Dastan!" Garsiv called, finally catching up with his little brother. For the first time in his life, he saw Dastan scared. His younger brother uneasily pulled the sword from the scabbard and letting the sheath drop to the floor. Dastan only stepped backward, not even holding the sword out to protect himself. The blue eyes flashed many emotions-anger, terror, hurt, fear, nervousness, innocence.

Dastan was unsure of himself at this point. He still knew that no matter what he said to his brother in attempts to change his mind, there would be nothing that would be able to aid him. "I didn't kill Father," Dastan said softly, never tearing his eyes away from his brother. Garsiv didn't look convinced.

Garsiv stepped closer to his brother, holding his sword out, his thin lips twisted into a malicious grin. "Well, then God will pardon you," he said simply, his breath still ragged from the chase. "when your head rolls," he continued. And then he lunged out at Dastan a powerful scream erupting from the depths of the middle Prince's mouth in anger.

The younger Prince ran, only deflecting the sword when it would veer to close to his flesh. No matter how much the lack of trust his brother displayed, there would never be a day where Dastan would be abel to cause physical harm to him. Garsiv had always been there for him, and right now, he was only misinformed. He loved Garsiv. He would not kill Garsiv. He would protect himself from harm, but he would not be the one to kill his family. That was his uncle's job.

Garsiv gave a rough kick to his brother's stomach, satisfied when he heard the groan of pain. He pushed his brother behind a pillar, pausing for a brief moment to look at his deranged brother. "We aren't fighting with sticks anymore, little brother," he told Dastan venomously.

The Lion of Persia screamed and pushed his brother back, running up the stairs to his right, looking down at his brother as he began making his own way up. Dastan had had enough. He needed to get away from here, and he wasn't going to be able to accomplish that if he was only defending himself. He needed Garsiv to go away. He wouldn't kill him, but he wouldn't give him a painless ride either.

Their swords clashed violently, small sparks jumping off of the blades, falling to the ground. Garsiv threw his arm around his brother's neck, putting him in a painful chokehold, slowing cutting off his air supply.

"Is that all you got?" Dastan screamed with a last gasp of air, and with one fluid moment, Dastan flipped his brother over his shoulder, sending him toppling down the stairs, his muscled back colliding with the pillar at the bottom of the staircase, making him grunt in pain. The extravagant helmet flew off of his brother's head, rolling on the floor helplessly.

The young Prince ran down the stairs and made a show of kicking away his brother's sword that had fallen out of his hand on his way down the stairs. Dastan held his own sword out over his brother, continuing to show that Dastan was in full capability to kill Garsiv.

Dastan brushed his face with his other hand, feeling a tear trying to make its way out. He would not cry. "I. Did. Not. Kill. Father," he said. And then, he ran away, just like he had been doing all day.

* * *

Dastan pulled the hood back over his head as he came out of the building, merging into the herds of people.

Once he was finally out of Avrat, he looked at the ground, trying to see if there was any indication of where Tamina might have gone.

He didn't know why he wanted to find her. She had run away, being the coward that she was.

No, she wasn't a coward. Even he knew when he crossed the line about insults. She wasn't a coward. He was sure that she would probably have all of her legitimate reasons as to why she left him to death.

As Dastan followed the pair of tracks, he let his mind wander. Why would she leave? She had obviously taken the Dagger with her, so she must have thought that it was in a dangerous position with him.

She had taken Aksh, so he could only assume that she wanted speed to get to wherever she was going. Oh, he prayed that she wasn't on her way to Alamut to confront his innocent brother. But she wasn't that stupid, either. She would know what she was doing, even if it seemed completely ludicrous to everyone around her. As long as it made sense to her, that was all that mattered, he thought with a lonely smile.

But then, why did he want to find her? She made it quite clear that she didn't want anything to do with him.

Dastan told himself that it was only because of the Dagger that made him follow her. She had the control to save his father and treat his uncle in the way that he deserved. She had the thing that would change everything.

However, there was something else there. He didn't really know what it was, and he wasn't sure if he liked whatever he was feeling.

Was it because he wanted to make sure that she was alright? That she had gotten through without any difficulties? Was it because he felt exhilarated at her side, like everything was so much more dangerous and fun? Was he... Was he falling in love with Tamina? The woman he had once sworn that he wanted to kill? That didn't seem right.

Even though Dastan had never been in love before, and no one but his father really had that priviledge, he knew that there were some things about courtship and love that weren't to be tested or criticized. When it happened, it happened, he supposed.

But that didn't mean that he was in love with Tamina did it? She was stubborn and spoiled and didn't have any business being in control of a city. She hailed a bloody knife, for God's sake! But she was also observant, wise, beautiful, cunning, mysterious, unpredictable...

Dastan shook those thoughts from his head. He should not be thinking such things, even if he was beginning to think that they were true.

Love was a scary part of life. It was unpredictable, like Tamina, he thought. It was just one of those things that would creep up on you without giving you a head's up. It could be found in the strangest of people, in some cases, even in the most unlikely.

Tamina was definitely one of those 'most unlikely'. They were of different breeds, but had so much in common with one another. It was scary how much they had in common with one another, personality wise anyway.

But love? That was ridiculous. They had just met only a few days ago, and here he was, thinking that perhaps, he was in love with her! Someone as disagreeable as her! No! He would not let that happen to himself. He was a free spirit, and right now, it seemed that she was looking for someone who was more likely to settle down and cooperate with whatever she wanted. And Dastan certainly would not be the guy to do something like that. Even his father and brothers had difficulty containing him, especially when he was determined to get something done.

The young Prince took a deep breath and continued walking, focusing on anything but Tamina and whatever else tagged along with her in his thoughts.

He looked up at the sun, seeing how it hadn't changed. It didn't recognize that things were different now. That Persia's most wonderful King was dead-killed at the hands of his own brother.

The sand beneath his booted feet was still hot and grainy.

The sky above him was just as blue as it was a month ago.

The rocks hadn't moved from their predestined positions.

Nature hadn't changed, and yet its mischievous web did whatever it could to make life a living hell for all of its toys. And did it ever succeed.

* * *

Tamina lied down on her back, a towel spread out beneath her. Her face looked up to the sun and his brown eyes closed, her breath slowing, her body and mind finally sleeping and relaxing after such a long, terrible day. Aksh stod beside her, not moving, just watching the dunes uninterestedly.

A hand roughly clamped over her mouth, and the horse whinied in amusement.

The Princess's snapped open and locked with a pair of blue ones that looked furious.

His hand moved to his covered face-his finger resting on his lips then moved in a violent swift against his throat.

Tamina understood the miming and nodded. He slowly moved his hand from her mouth, standing up and moving away from her. She sat up and was just about to berate him for being such an arrogant bastard, but was silenced when he whispered rudely, "Get down!"

She bent over, pressing her body against the hot sand, glaring at his back through brown slits.

"A Persian Patrol," he said hurriedly when the tips of the Persian flag passed out of view.

"You were supposed to be dead," she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, well, I'm not am I?" he asked, pulling the hood down and releasing all of his dark hair. "Very clever, Princess," he hissed at her.

She glared at him.

"But not clever enough..." He dug through his belt for a moment and pulled out the Dagger, making Tamina nearly scream with anger. Why hadn't she kept it on her? Well, the answer was painstakingly obvious. She hadn't anticipated him getting out of Avrat alive.

Tamina cursed under her breath, making Dastan smile cheekily.

"Either you tell me the whole story, or I leave you here alone and Dagger-less," he told her icily, twidling the Dagger in his fingers.

"Fine!" she shouted angrily. She gazed behind him and to her surprise, she saw a great tower of sand billowing towards them-a sand storm. "Can we get out of here?" she asked, nicer this time.

"What?" he asked, somewhat dumbfounded at the sudden change in her attitude. There wasn't anyone else around them, so who would be there to hear whatever it was that she had to say?

She gestured behind him, and he turned back and nodded and grabbed the supplies for the small tent.

* * *

**Ah, here we are. Now, it is 2:00 am, here guys... I think we have established that I love you all. **

**And before any of you guys say anything... Yes, I know that most of this chapter doesn't have a whole lot of description or "exact movie dialogue" I shall explain. In this chapter, it was more of thought chapter, so there wasn't a whole lot of room to put in descriptions, since I was trying to live in their heads. Unless any of you can tell me that you are constantly describing things in beautiful words every minute of every day... **

**And the dialogue... Yes, it is rather sad, but I haven't seen the movie in months! And when I say months, I seriously mean months. It's been very depressing. And in some cases, like with the meeting with Nizam, I am sure that we all know what took place there anyway, and I wanted to talk about Tamina and her little thoughts more. Such a fun character. Anyway, I am getting off topic. (ADD, right?) And in other cases, I am purposefully changing the dialogue, because hey! This _is _fanfiction, after all, and I want to keep this fresh and exciting for you guys. **

**So, yes, this was my least liked chapter. You can complain about it in a review. Haha ;) **

**YOU ARE AMAZING! 25 more until 100! All of the other fanfic writers are jealous... Haha... Okay, I'm done. :D**


	10. Romance in the Air

**Hello, fanfiction people! A very Merry Christmas to all of you, even though it's a little late, and Happy New Year! 2011! Can you believe it! I hate it at the beginning of the year when you put the date down on papers, and you end up putting the last date. haha...Can't tell you how many times I have done that this year. **

**So, I am sure that most of you are familiar with "New Year Resolutions". Well, I have finally decided what mine is going to be. I am going to try to update every single Saturday. Yep. Once. A. Week. Pretty amazing huh, considering my last updates have been years apart...(at least in fanfiction terms...) So, this is very exciting, but I only hope that I am going to be able to stay committed to that. **

**And for all of you Dastamina lovers, this chapter, I think should communicate the beginnings of thier young love. Haha, okay maybe not that intense, but there should be a lot of the more romantic feel to the air. :D Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Since I haven't done one of these in a while, I think that it is right to say that none of these characters are mine. :( Sad face, I know. **

* * *

The sandstorm was billowing outside of thier tent, the filthy wind beating mercilessly against the flaps of the tent, making everything loud and violent.

Tamina and Dastan sat inside of the tent, their bodies practically touching due to the size of the tent, which really could be described as a tiny piece of cloth with a stick in the middle standing it up. However, they both fit. Aksh was outside of the tent, lying down its side, trying in vain to be behind the tent enough to have some of the wind blocked. It didn't help much.

The Alamutian Princess sighed heavily, not really wanting to tell him what she was about to. It wasn't his business, but moreover, it would be going against what Guardians were taught. But what was even worse? She _wanted _him to know about it. She didn't know why; maybe so that he would finally undestand how important all of this really was? Maybe to find a way to stop whatever evil plan was in motion? Or was it just that she wanted him to know just so that he would understand what _she _had been going through? No one had ever cared about her anyway. It had always been that she was just the guardian of the Dagger, and the Dagger was all that was important. No one looked at her fondly or wanted to speak on casual terms with her. It was always about the Dagger. True, this had been what she was born to do, and there had never ever been any hesitation in her job at protecting the mystical item, she just wished that there would be a moment, even for only a minute, where she could just be a regular person.

She never shared thoughts like that though with her peers. That would be greatly frowned upon in her culture, in the council. The Dagger was supposed to be her life, and anywhere away from it, would be completely unacceptable.

"Alright, so tell me about the Dagger," Dastan said softly, getting himself situated in the tent, his upper arm settling against hers.

"I'm guessing things didn't go well with your uncle," Tamina said after a moment, trying to prolong divulging the truth for as long as she could.

For a brief second, darkness washed over his young face, making it old and weary, as if it had seen too many black nights and no bright days. He looked angry, like his whole life had no meaning and no importance. His dark eyebrows furrowed, his beautiful blue eyes darkening to hatred. Dastan looked away from her, biting his lip and trying to remain in control of himself. She saw his calloused hands squeeze into tight fists, leaving his knuckles paper white.

"Dastan?" she asked him softly, resting a weak hand on his upper arm, not very surprised to feel how tense he was about everything. She waited a moment, slowly beginning to feel his muscles loosen and relax. He looked back at her, his expression saying that whatever had just happened, didn't. He always concealed his emotions - just like her. Now, she knew just how annoying it was. She would watch him in his mental toil, there not being anything that she could do about it to make things even remotely easier for him.

"Stop trying to avoid the subject, Princess. Tell me about this Dagger. All of Persia's coming to kill us. I need to know why. Then I'll tell you what happened in Avrat." He avoided her eyes for a brief moment, then looked back up into her brown eyes.

Tamina nodded slowly, succumbing to his little plan. "In Alamut rests the beating heart of all life on Earth," she started simply, looking at him thoughtfully. "the Sandglass of the Gods," she continued after a pause. Dastan looked skeptical, but seemed to be listening intently. She contiued, ready to get it out into the open, "Long ago, the Gods looked down on man and saw nothing but greed and treachery. And so they sent a great sandstorm to destroy all, wipe clean the face of the Earth. But one young girl begged the gods to give mankind another chance, offering her life in exchange. Seeing the purity withing, the gods were reminded of man's potential for good. And so they swept the sands into the Sandglass." Dastan nodded, everything suddenly becoming more and more clear with every word she said.

Aksh outside the tent whinied nervously.

"Shh," Dastan said softly, reaching his hand outside the tent to rub teh horse gently on the neck, soothing it. Tamina gave a soft coo and her hands followed Dastan's outside the tent, resting on Aksh's neck as well, petting the animal kindly. Within seconds, their hands found one another and Dastan's eventually rested on top of hers, his fingers closing around her palm affectionately. Tamina froze, looking at Dastan in surprise, but did not pull away. For some reason, she didn't want to. His hand felt right, there. On top of her hand.

"Sorry," he said after a moment, withdrawing his hand and pulling it back inside the tent shamefully, as if he had done something wrong.

The Princess smirked shyly. "Oh, no, no, it...It's alright." She wanted so desperately for him to take her hand again, but he didn't. He must have thought that she was uncomfortable in the position. Quite the contrary, really_. Oh gods_, she thought to herself painfully_, I really am falling in love with him._

"Go on," he urged softly, not making eye contact, still slightly embarrassed. He couldn't believe that he had actually done that! Of course, she would not be the kind of person to accept contact like that! She was a Princess who was stubborn and was always in charge. Doing something that outlandish was not something that she would appreciate. That just wasn't her.

She looked up at him, trying to tell him with her eyes that he had done nothing wrong. He didn't see it. "The Dagger was given to the girl who saved man," she continued after a moment. "making her the first Guardian. The Dagger blade is the only thing that can pierce the Sandglass and remove the Sands of Time, but the handle only holds one minute."

Dastan held the Dagger in his hands, looking down at it, studying its complexity. "What if one were to place the Dagger in the Sandglass and press the jewel button at the same time?" he asked gesturing to the button and running his hands down the blade.

"Sand would flow through endlessly," she responded, looking at him, surprised that he wasn't pushing all of the information away from him. He was soaking it in and accpeting it for what it was.

"You could turn back time as far as you like," he stated, almost in amazement with his own discovery.

Tamina quickly responded though, "Yes, but it is forbidden." After a moment, she asked cautiously, "What happened in Avrat, Dastan? I need to know too."

He sighed before revealing his own story, "It wasn't Tus that killed my father. It was Nizam," he told her harshly, making her almost flinch.

No. Tamina's eyes suddenly widened. Now, all she felt for him was comassion and sympathy. Dastan was a man who didn't deserve anything that was happening to him. Everything that he had ever had was no gone. He had nothing. That fact alone made Tamina's eyes water slightly, though she quickly swallowed them back, and her heart wrenched at that thought. The one man who Dastan was sure he could trust had killed his father, proving that he really did have no one. "Your uncle?" she asked surprised. She couldn't believe that that was happening. Everything possible that could go wrong was going wrong, and it was all happening to the least deserving person in the entire world.

"His hands were burned," his voice cracked. "His said it was from trying to pull the cloak off my father. I've gone over and over it in my mind. He never touched the cloak. He must have handled it before. It was Nizam who poisoned it. What good does it do turning back a few months in time do my uncle? None. He murdered my father for more than just a Dagger."

Tamina sat there in the tent with him. Carefully she took his hand in two of hers, catching both of them by surprise. However, she only stared at him, wishing that all of his pain would just go away. This wasn't right or fair.

"When my father was a boy," he started, catching her by surprise. She hadn't expected him to be so calm about this. He must have had plenty of time to calm down and come to terms with everything, but that still didn't stifle her surprise.

Yes, she knew now that she was falling in love with him. With all of his invading, stealing, cunning bones. But she knew him. He wasn't capable of killing his own father or any of his brothers. He was a man who had once been lucky enough to get the oppotunity to live with the Royal Persian Family, becoming part of them. Now, it all was ruined. He was insecure and scared. But what was more, he was willing to do whatever it took to make everything right - to fix what had gone wrong.

"Nizam saved his life hunting," he continued, looking back down at the Dagger, that same saddened man came out. "One day, the two princes were stalking a beautiful buck. But they were unaware of a lioness stalking them. Nizam shaved Sharaman. My father told us the story over and over again."

"I don't understand," she said curiously.

Dastan looked at her, hurt showing in his proud eyes. "Nizam wishes to go back in time and undo what he did. Not save my father. Let him die. Then he would be King for a lifetime, and my brothers would never be born," he ended.

"You would stay out on the streets," she said, looking down at the sandy ground.

The young Prince looked at her. Even with everything going on around him, there was always something about being with Tamina that seemed to calm him, make him relax. He didn't know what it was, but he suspected that he would find out soon enough.

Slowly the wind started to die down, and the tent flaps only gave the occasional movement of the brushing wind. "The storm's passed." He quickly climbed out, everything looking the same as it had before. Tamina followed, looking deep in thought.

"Dastan, the sands contained within the Sandglass are incredibly powerful." She lifted up the chain, looking carefully at the tiny vile, swishing back and forth, very little Sand still remaining in its glass container. "Opening the Dagger while it's inside the glass breaks the seal. That would destroy the Sandglass, causing it to crack and shatter. The Sands of Time would no longer be contained. And they would carry the gods' wrath with them once more, destroying everything in their path. And all of mankind would pay for Nizam's treachery. This is all that would be left of us. The secret Guardian Temple outside Alamut is a sanctuary, the one place the Dagger can be hidden safely, the only way to stop this Armageddon. That's the truth, Dastan." She paused looking at him with her lovely doe-like eyes, Dastan thought. "Give me back the Dagger so that I can take it there."

All of a sudden, Dastan looked very wary, shaking his head from side to side, making small grunts of disapproval. "I can't do that," he finally said, starting to walk away from her. "I'm coming with you," he told her simply, adjusting the royal reins on the horse.

Tamina honestly didn't know what to say. She couldn't believe that he was going to do this for her, with everything in his life currently at stake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that she was going to get to her destination alright and lively.

"You're going ot help me?" she asked, surprise catching in her throat several times.

He turned around on the horse, reaching his hand out to her, his gorgeous eyes squinting in the sunlight. "You know, we can stay here and caht, or you could get on the horse." She smiled happily, her eyes even watering at the fact that he was doing all of this for her. She just could believe that all of this was happening. She walked up calmly to him and climbed on the horse, wrapping her arms around his waist, now not afraid of him or suspicious of his intentions. He was treating her like the normal person she always wanted to be, and she knew that whatever was going to happen, it was going to be okay if he was there with her at her side.

They must have rode for hours, not talking much, both of them really too dumbstruck with what had occured between the two of them to really know how to talk. Now, they both had somewhat admitted that they had feelings for one another, but they didn't know what they were going to do with themselves. Would they continue mocking one another like they had been for their entire adventure? Did this mean that they would have to be nice to one another and give one another kisses and hugs? That didn't sound like something that appealed to Dastan very much. Most definitely her wouldn't mind holding her and kissing her when he got the chance to, but it wasn't like him to be constantly affectionate towards a person, and knowing her, that wouldn't be what she wanted either in their relationship. So what then?

"I don't really know what to say," he said quietly after a while, twisting the reins akwardly in his hand, careful not to hurt the horse.

"What do you mean?" she asked after a moment of diliberation.

"What is going to happen between us? Now that we aren't arch enemies anymore, what are we going to do with ourselves?" he asked, trying to make it light and funny. But he really did want and need an answer.

"I never really considered us that to begin with, Dastan," she said quietly, looking at him, studying his thin, dark hair.

He scoffed, chuckling a little. "Oh, I know you better than that, Princess. You hated me the first moment you set eyes on me," he said sagely.

"That was in the High Temple, Dastan. I actually thought you to be quite attractive," she said teasingly, biting her smirk back, though he could clearly hear it in her velvety voice.

Then, he laughed - the second time she had ever heard him laugh. He sounded so happy, and this time, she knew that she was completely pleased that he had at least found some relief, even if for only a while. He needed to be happy more often. It suited him better than being the way he currently had to be. His eyes were dancing and his cheeks and eyes all scrunched up from his laughter.

"Please, Princess, do not flatter me so. I know that you were only looking at the Dagger. How you probably wanted it back, that you wanted to kill me, and the list goes on and on about all of the pain that you probably wanted to put me through. Now, that I think about that experience, it would have been a frightening one indeed, knowing you now, anyway," he responded once he could talk.

She blushed. "Well, maybe you have a little point..."

"I know I do. But what are we going to do about this?" he asked, serious once more. Sometimes, Tamina realized that she didn't like it when he would suddenly change from one mood to the next practically without warning. It was the part of him that was almost as unpredictable as she. Which was a main reason why she found him as attractive as she did. There had just been something about him that was different from all of the other men that she had met in her lifetime. And even though this man, the Lion of Persia, had taken over her city, she could not find it in her to regret her friendship towards him, maybe even their relationship.

"Dastan?" she asked, a new thought suddenly captivating her mind.

"Hmm?" he questioned softly, his own mind obviously somewhere else, just like hers.

He bit her lip a little before finally asking, "Why did you attack my city? I know that you were forced to believe that we were forging weapons for our eneimies, but, was did you, Dastan, do it? Did you believe what your family was saying or was there something else?" Now that she had finally asked that, she felt almost relieved. She had wanted to know the answer to this particular question for a long time, and now she was going to get an answer. She only could hope that it would be an answer that she would like.

He paused for a moment, and she felt that uneasiness in him. "I didn't want to," he finally said. "My father had told us that we were not to attack your city, however, Nizam convinced Tus to go through with it, and Garsiv never needs much convincing to go into a war. I told them that it was not the right thing to do, but they did not care. I was actually the one who led the attack on the Eastern Gate and got in," he said shamefully. "I promise that once this is all over, I will help you rebuild your city to its former glory, even making it better than it was," he swore to her, making her smile lightly.

Tamina shook her head, though she looked genuinely happy. "Dastan, there is no need for that. My city will rebuild itself over time. It always has. I just hope that whatever your uncle is planning does not happen. We would lose the entire world, Dastan, including ourselves."

"Do you think that the gods would perhaps pardon us, seeing as the world is not as terrible as it used to be?" he asked softly, not really knowing what answer to expect.

"It would not matter. The Sands in the Sandglass are very powerful, and they would continue doing what they had been made to do, regardless of the status of the world." She sighed.

"But they created the Sands of Time, why could they not contain them once more?" he asked again.

She shook her head dejectedly. "That is not how it works, Dastan. I wish I could say that everything will be fine because the world is a much better place. But the gods never intended for someone other than the Guardians and a selective few to ever learn about the Dagger. It was meant to be keep secret for all eternity."

"You can't really expect a secret that big to be kept over the entire stretch of time."

Tamina smiled. "I never said we have succeeded in doing that. Jumping to the past proves helpful. We erase what just occured and make sure that there is nothing that would be able to help them get to that conclusion again," she explained, making Dastan feel a little silly. Of course, they would be able to just do that.

* * *

About an hour later, they finally pulled the reins back looking at a small pond of water surrounded by tall shady trees.

"Our journey is blessed!" Tamina exclaimed with a small gasp. Dastan quickly took a survelance of the area around them, trying to see if there was anyone there, since waterholes weren't all that common in the desert. "We'll stop for water and push for the mountain pass by nightfall."

Dastan paused, turning around slightly a small smirk playing on his thin lips, only able to look at her from the corner of his eyes. "You enjoy telling me what to do," he said in a slightly husky voice, making Tamina's heart pound just a little faster than normal.

Tamina was quick with her response, "Only because you're so good at following orders."

Dastan smirked once last time, looking at her. "Yeah well, don't press your luck."

* * *

**And end chapter. Kay so just so you know, I was constantly hitting pause and play on MY movie just so I could get everything right in here. There was quite a bit of scenes where they are directly coming out of the movie, so boo yah! Yes, I got the movie for Christmas. **

**This chapter is a little shorter than the rest of mine, but I think that since it was a more romantic chapter, you could cut me some slack...? hehe...**

**So, technically this isn't Saturday, however, I have been writing since Saturday. It is currently 1:30 am here. I love you people, remember that. **

**So, please, please, please review to show me your love. We are 20 away from 100, and I know you guys are capable of amazingness. **


	11. Is it an Alliance or a Relationship?

**Hello there. Yes, as some of you must have already observed it is not Saturday. It is in fact, Monday the 17th of January. I was at a friend's house all day on Saturday and was unable to update or write at all. But I am here now, so don't fret. And since I am a little tardy, I have decided that I am going to update once more before Saturday. Most likely on Wednesday or something like that. Also, I will still be updating on Saturday, so yeah. In a way, it is almost a benefit to you guys, because you get three updates in one week. Pretty amazing, right? **

**For one of my readers: I am the stig: I apologize for my grammatical errors in the last chapter. It was two in the morning when I finished writing that last chapter, and I was terribly tired and only focused on getting the chapter on here for you guys to read. This chapter, I will have proofed it thoroughly, so I hope that you won't find any significant errors (hopefully none at all). Also, the Hassansins are quite interesting characters, and I enjoyed watching them in action, however, this story isn't really focused on their group, so there can't be a whole lot from them. However, once Dastan and Tamina meet the Hassansins, I will try to do a little narrative of thier perspective, just for you. :)**

**So, here comes the next chapter! Yay! And, since I am so amazing, in this chapter, though it may seem impossible, I incorporated quite a lot more romance! :D**

* * *

They sat around the small, dirty waterhole, the pond shimmering in the sunlight with the constant stirring of the young woman's hands, soaking in the somehow cool water. She held their canteen, filling it up to the very brim, taking a few thirsty swigs, then repeating. They only had one canteen, and this time, Tamina vowed that she would not drink all of it by herself. She looked up from the water, staring at Dastan through the tops of her eyes, peering at him through her eyelashes. Careful not to drip, Tamina screwed the cap on and tossed the canteen to Dastan, him catching it without effort with just one hand. He smiled happily at her, taking a swig of his own, refilling it once he was done.

Dastan looked back at Tamina, who was now scooping water up in her warm hands, rubbing the water over her sweaty neck and arms. Occasionally she would sigh, and the young prince swore that that alone shook him to the core. She looked so carefree, sitting there, like there wasn't any crisis and that they were just sitting there together because they wanted to. It was a liberating feeling, and Dastan realized how much he had come to depend on it. Even when they hated one another, the bickering kept his thoughts away from his father and all of the other things that were going wrong in his life. She was a great distraction, and now...well, she was more than just a distraction now. Tamina was a part of him now. He knew that that sounded weird, he didn't even know how to take something like that, but he knew that that was just how it was.

He looked at her again, seeing her smile and her brown eyes closed thoughtfully as she relaxed. He had never really seen her relaxed, or at least not like this. She had always looked so worried and so plagued by what was going to happen in the future, but seeing her like this was a happy change, or at least one that he hoped would stick around a while longer. Tamina needed to be happy and relaxed.

"What are you staring at?" she asked suddenly, her eyebrows perched in the perfect smirk and her brown orbs as smug as they always were. A small smile played at the corners of her lips, finishing off the effect completely.

"You look happy when you're relaxed," Dastan replied, shrugging it off, but truthfully feeling quite embarrassed that she had caught him staring at her.

She looked skeptical. "Being relaxed generally implies that one would be at least satisfied, if not happy," she teased.

"Alright, go ahead and ruin the moment!" he teased back, smacking a handful of water in her direction, not really aiming, but slapping it nonetheless. However, his aim was a lot better than he thought, and the tossed water sprayed across her face and front, making her gasp in complete alarm. He looked at her and stood, his hands in front of him as a gesture of surrender once he saw the familiar firey look in her eyes which, truth be told, made her look even more beautiful, like a sinful or a cruel beautiful. "Now, Tamina," he said warningly, but in a frightened tone as well. "You must know that that water was not intended at all to actually hit you." She looked like she wasn't buying it in the slightest.

But suddenly her eyes cleared, and she nodded in understanding, sitting back down again, continuing to bathe herself in the water as if nothing had happened, making Dastan feel somewhat satisfied at his little victory. Still though, Dastan still stood, his eyes tracing her every move in fear that she would in some way retaliate. You never could tell with Tamina; she was always very shifty in her moods, but that was just another one of those little ticks that really made her stand out for Dastan. She was perfect. Perfect for him.

"Sit down," she said harshly, gesturing to a spot of sand next to her. The prince still wasn't sure, but judging by her tone, he didn't want to give her another reason to get angry with him. He sat down, resting his legs out in front of him in a lackadaisical manner, resting his palms behind him, his face looking up at the sun.

Dastan closed his own eyes, letting the Persian sun warm his youthful face. Though he was already sweating terribly, he could never deny the sun the pleasure of heating him more. However, suddenly, his face cooled in rapid time, newly bestowed water dripping from his beard and hair. His blue eyes flashed open in an instant, immediately going to a not-so-innocent Tamina who was barely containing her laughter. "Now, that wasn't supposed to actually hit you," she mimicked, a rebellious giggle coming out from the back of her throat, making it also the first time he had heard her laugh. She had a marvelous laugh, even though he only heard the giggle, he knew that her laugh would be just that more exquisite.

The prince sat up completely, looking her dead in the eye, making her shiver, while also making him a little smug with his accomplishment. "Of course it didn't," he said calmly, then jutting his hand in and out of the water quickly splashing water back up at her, he hit her in the face once more, her hair getting even wetter.

Tamina scowled playfully, tossing yet another scoop of water at him, while he did so as well, giving her a little wink.

Soon enough, both were almost completely drenched until finally, Dastan gathered the rest of his courage and wound his arms around her waist securely, startling her to a point where she could do nothing but let his arms remain around her. He held her closer, taking the time to let that moment of intimacy sweep over the both of them. He had never felt that way before. Dastan slowly began standing up, his back towards the pond, and with happiness and a devilish laugh, he fell backwards, falling into the deeper part of the pond, making her squeal.

"Dastan, no!" he heard, just before they went under, and once they came back up to the surface, she smacked his arm playfully. "You are an idiot." She swam to side of the pond, meaning to get out and dry. But he was a much faster swimmer than she was, and as soon as she started crawling out, he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her back in, this time, letting his arms remain around her waist in the water. He couldn't remember a time when he felt as exhilirated as he did. Especially with everything that had been happening to him, this little reprieve was so welcome, and the fact that Tamina was there, sharing that moment with him and making that moment possible, was everything.

"Stop it!" she yelled, though he could hear the smirk in her voice and the excitedness in her words. She was having fun, probably more fun than she had had in years. She playfully struggled to get away from him, pretending to elbow him in gut, while he only tightened his grip on her.

He rested his lips right next to her ear, purring, "If I let go of you, will you promise not to try to get out?" he said, all too seductively. She stopped her squirming without a thought, slowly trying to turn around to face him. She nodded softly and he almost reluctantly let go of her, his nose withdrawing itself from her hair. "There. See?" he said proudly.

"See what?" she asked, her normal mood and wittiness coming back with astounding speed. "See that you are a completely selfish, arrogant man who -" she stopped suddenly, hearing a faint rustle. He obviously heard it too as his "fun and games" look was etched off his face in a matter of seconds.

"Get out," he whispered urgently, slowly making his way to the horse at the shallower end of the pool. Tamina nodded and she followed suit, swimming to the side and crawling out like she had done before, though this time, there were no strong arms pulling her back in. Only rocks that steadied her balance. Why did everything have to go wrong? They had been having such a good time!

Dastan looked over to that rustling spot, and he saw something that he had not expected to see ever, ever again. It was an ostrich. A red coth covered its head, leaving only the beak apparent to the world. The blinded bird squawked in annoyance, and Dastan quickly took another survey of everything around him.

He jumped up out of the water, running to the horse, but already, horsemen had surrounded them, men coming up to the both of them and grabbing them both violently. Tamina, who was not used to getting captured as much as he, tried to look for an escape route, but she stopped trying after a while once the men's grips were becoming to painful to ignore, Dastan already having his hands up, though quite reluctantly. He looked at Tamina who bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. Two hands were squeezing her forearms, their ungroomed nails digging deep into her flesh, making her squeeze her eyes tighter together.

"Stop it!" he yelled at the man who looked startled. He tore his gaze from Tamina, (a rather disgustingly lustful gaze at that) and turned to Dastan. "She won't try to run away!" Tamina shook her head violently in agreement. "Can't you see you're hurting her? Stop it!" The hands around his own arms tightened and he bit back a small yelp then looked back at Tamina's captor who still hadn't relinquished his hold on her. "I said let go of her. Now." Dastan glared at the man so hard, he thought that his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets, but he didn't care. He refused to blink, even though the pain from his arms were beginning to sting his eyes. Finally, the man let go, only barely grasping her arms.

"Persian!" a familiar voice yelled all too happily - the voice of Sheikh Amar. Dastan turned his attention to Amar, not catching the look of gratefulness Tamina was sending him. He had done that for her. "We parted under such rushed circumstances, I didn't get a chance to say good-bye." A sword went around Dastan's neck, holding him in place, while he could hear Tamina trying to struggle behind him.

"Tamina, stop!" he commanded, not wanting to see or hear her in pain ever again. Once had been quite enough. He heard her stop rustling behind him, and he huffed a sigh of relief. At least she knew when not to test his orders.

He did not move, only walking with the Sheikh's man. Suddenly the anger of the Sheik's became more apparent. "Yes, pretty girl, stop it. Wouldn't want your precious arms getting snapped off would we?"

"Get to the point, Amar," Dastan said warningly, his voice husky and deep and his eyes challenging.

Amar nodded absentmindedly. "We've been tracking you for a week!" His hands stretched out like claws and his chapped lips made a terrifying snarl. He walked up to Dastan, his finger only inches from his nose and continued, "That little riot you started, it went on for two days!" He turned away from him, his voice growing almost hollow and more pained by the word. "My beloved racetrack, all washed away like footprints in sand. You see Anita there?" He pointed to the covered ostrich that looked as if it was being guarded. "Hmm? Look at her. She's all that's left of my gaming empire. And no matter your skills as a promoter, who can't organize and ostrich race, with just one ostrich! Am I right?" he screamed, his pudgy fist blowing its way into Dastan's gut, making him groan out in pain, the men around them cheering.

Tamina gasped behind him as well, and he heard her give a little struggle, but he shook his head, and after a moment, she seemed to get his message and stopped squirming. Dastan bit his tongue through the rest of the pain, just trying to live it out. "Yes, sir. Come with me." Amar walked away, two men now dragging Dastan along.

They walked up to the lonely ostrich, Amar tenderly petting the deranged creature on the neck while slowly lifting the mask off, leaving what appeared to be two, glossy, glass eyes that looked more alien than anything else. The thin eyelids would sometimes wander lazily over the bulging black eyes, giving the bird an even more eerie feeling. Dastan avoided looking in them. For whatever reason, he would never understand Amar's love for such ugly beasts.

"Did you know that ostriches have suicidal tendencies?" Amar asked softly, looking affectionately at the bird. Look at this poor thing." Dastan cast a look around him, trying to see if there was anyone else who looked even mildly disturbed by the overwhelming love the Sheikh was giving to the animal. No one even looked bothered in the slightest. "She used to be a grand champion," Amar continued, his voice seeming to get tighter and tighter. "Now I have to watch her night and day to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." What Amar did next was almost too much for Dastan. Amar bent over and placed the most gentle of kisses on the bird's neck, as if the creature was his own child. Dastan turned slightly to look at Tamina who looked a little wary of Amar and slightly disgusted. He couldn't blame her.

Amar then turned away from the bird and continued his prideful stride, not breaking his emotional speech. "So, it occured to me the only way to recoup my tragic losses was to track down you two young lovers..."

"Sheikh Amar," Dastan tried to interrupt, trying to tell the man that he and Tamina were indeed not lovers at all, but the Sheikh did not pay any heed to him.

"...who cast this dark cloud upon me. Ah, yes! I'm going to need the price on your heads!" He turned around, jutting his finger out once more at the young monarchs. "Your brother will be very pleased to see..."

Dastan wasn't listening anymore. He was looking beyond the group, seeing four sand dervishes twirling majestically there. He didn't know why, but there was something about those dervishes that just didn't seem natural. He felt as if he was being watched.

"Oh, it's sand dervishes, Persian," Amar said disinterestedly. "They're common as camel turd in the desert."

"No, Sheikh Amar, listen to me!" Dastan yelled in agitation and need, but a thick rope was tied around his mouth before he could continue any longer.

Amar shook his head madly. "No, no no! I'd rather not! You got me into this mess, and it is going to be you who gets me out!"

Seso, the famed Ngbaka that Amar so loved talking about, came up to him, pulling the Dagger out of his belt, just like he had done back at the ostrich races in the Valley of the Slaves. "Nice knife," he said, continuing thier little charade.

Tamina's eyes widened worriedly, and she turned her attention to Amar. "Noble Skeikh, we are on a sacred journey to the Temple..." But, just like Dastan she was quickly cut off by a choking rope, ending her plead. Dastan bit back against the rope in attempt to protect her, but after getting hit once more in the gut, he gave up.

The fat Sheikh rolled his eyes, completely done with the game that the two outsiders were playing. It had cost him everything, and more than anything, he was not going to get any more involved than he already was. "Temple, the Temple," he mocked. "There's nothing more sacred than Persian gold!"

* * *

After a while on their detoured journey, Seso finally removed the ropes from their captives mouthes, even being generous enough to let them walk together. However, still, he would not remove their bounds around their wrists. He knew that the man was quite talented with a weapon, that was just too obvious with his build and his confidence, and he didn't want the woman to get any ideas either, and it was also just as obvious that she was crafty and was always trying to find a way to get out of thier little mess. But he wouldn't let them. He would give them their little walk together, but that would be it.

"I'm so sorry, Tamina," Dastan said quietly, making sure that the guards around them wouldn't hear their conversation. "I shouldn't have gotten so carried away at the pond. Perhaps if we would have just filled the canteen and gone, we wouldn't even be in this mess right now."

She shook her head. "It was just as much my fault as it is yours. Besides," she paused for a moment, as if shocked at what she was about to say. "It was...entertaining." She blushed and looked away from him, her gaze settling on the knife that dangled on Seso's belt. And just as soon as her small happiness had come, it was gone just as quickly. Everything came down to the Dagger. That was the way that it always had been. Every single time something significant or happy had occured in her life, there was always the Dagger right there to remind her that she would never be free of its presence or from the responsibility that came with it. She was...enslaved to it. She didn't like that word; she wasn't a woman who was accostomed to being enslaved. But she was the Guardian of the most important thing in the history of the world and she would always have the pride of being that caretaker, even if no one even knew that her duty exisited.

Dastan noticed her sudden change in mood, and he so badly wanted to wrap his arms around her like he had in the pool, but that was impossible due to the ropes around his hands. And judging by the look on her face, a simple hug would not be enough to make her happy again. He understood that. "Tamina, this isn't your fault. At all," He said surely, dragging her eyes away from the Dagger with his voice.

Tamina looked at him, blinking a few times to keep the tears from coming into her eyes. "Your uncle wasn't supposed to know about the Guardian or the Dagger. You weren't supposed to break into the gate in Alamut. You weren't supposed to find the Dagger. I wasn't supposed to leave Alamut! You were never supposed to find out about the Dagger at all! And we were not supposed to get caught out here! And we most definitely weren't supposed to develop feelings for one another!" she whispered in a yell, making Dastan shrink back so as not to get hit by her venomous words.

"I'm sorry, Tamina. You are right. You are always right. And I promise that as soon as we somehow find a way to get the Dagger to Temple, I will get out of your life forever, and you will never even hear from me again." Dastan closed his eyes and began walking away from her. Of course, none of this was supposed to happen. Especially the part about him falling in love with her. That was outlandish and sinful and criminal. But it was amazing and exhilirating and fantastic all at the same time. But obviously, she had never wanted for that to happen. He was alone again.

Tamina felt terrible. Out of everything she could have said to him, that had to have been the most hurtful thing. She knew that she wasn't supposed to do a lot of things, and so far she had done them all. Why stop now? So, against what she knew was deemed right, she trumped after him, getting several curious looks along the way.

"Dastan, wait," she said softly, making him freeze in his tracks. He turned around and faced her, blinking a couple of times, his eyes hardening into stone. "I shouldn't have said that. I-I-I don't know how I'd-" She took a deep breath, the apology getting caught in her throat. No matter how many times she needed to apologize, she had never been able to really do such a thing. It wasn't in her nature to ask for forgiveness. "I don't know how I'd do all of this without you, Dastan. Please?"

They looked at one another for a long time, Tamina never blinking once. Dastan nodded after a while and walked to her side, playfully bumping her side, though it was still obvious that he hadn't "healed" completely. "I'm sorry, Tamina," he repeated. "I was just trying to help," he said, his voice sounding like an injured puppy.

She nodded, relieved that he had forgiven her. "And I wasn't 'supposed' to get so angry with you about it," she teased, bumping back into him.

"You're getting soft, Princess," he said cheekily. "I feel as if I have conquered a beast," he said in the same manner.

"And you grow more arrogant everyday, Prince," she responded in kind, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips in enjoyment.

"Only to balance out your loss of it, Princess," he said proudly.

"I was never arrogant," she told him stubbornly.

He shook his head. "No, no. You were _never_ arrogant. You were only _ig_norant."

* * *

**Alright, so there it is. Now, this has to be one of my favorite chapters that I have written. However, I am really worried that I might have made the two of them jump out of character a little bit. So, of course, any feedback on that subject would be awesome, cause I'm kinda self conscious right now. :/ Especially with the apology. That wasn't even supposed to come out, but I guess my fingers had plans of their own, huh? **

**Kay guys, I think we only need 15 more rewiews till we hit the big 100. Let's aim for 92 reviews. That's only seven. Not that much. We can do this! Be bold!**

**Love ya'll! - Books**


	12. The Game Changes

**So, as promised, here we are! Now, I am sure that some of you may have realized that last chapter was quite a bit more fanfic'd than previous chapters. I felt the inspiration to just write whatever came to mind, and so that's how everything turned out. :) I am pretty satisfied with that last chapter; quite happy with that little Dastamina bit. Oh yeah. This chapter, unfortunately is going to stick a little closer to the movie than the last chapter, however I am going to try very very hard to put in a few more romance scenes. But I really would like it if you guys would tell me how I do in that particular genre. Romance can be tricky, so it'd be nice for some input. I want to make this better for you guys, truly I do, but I can't if I don't know what needs to be fixed. :/**

**But here is the next chapter! Reviews, like I mentioned are quite appreciated, and I would like to see us really get up to 94 reviews this time around before I update on Saturday. That would really make my day. We have 89 currently. Let's be bold! :) We can do this! :D**

* * *

Dastan and Tamina continued walking, rarely ever talking. Right now, there was nothing to talk about. Everyone around them whispered, already seeming to know that the two of them really did have a motive to thier insanity, and no matter how hard they thought about it, there was nothing that they could come up with.

"It's obvious that they are up to something," Seso murmured to Amar under his breath, gesturing to the two of them, who walked with their proud, royal heads bowed, Tamina watching where she stepped and Dastan simply avoiding people's gazes.

Amar shook his head violently. "No, no, no! We are not going to talk about them! We are going to bring back the Persian to his brothers, get the gold, probably sell the girl, and continue along. I will not play a part in this endless game of tag! My part, your part! It is over! And you would do well to remember that I am in charge of this company."

"You remind me of it everyday, old friend," Seso said calmly, never removing his dark, curious eyes from the two in front of them. Seso let the topic drop slightly, knowing that the better nature of Amar would come out if he simply left the bait out in the open.

"What do you suppose they are up to, then, since you're so interested?" Amar asked after a while, tangling a grubby hand in his unkempt beard. Seso hid a smile.

The Ngbaka shook his head. "I am not sure, but this 'Temple' really appears to be important for the both of them. What could be at a Temple?" Seso asked to himself, focusing on the sandy ground beneath him, hoping that an answer would just suddenly appear from out of nowhere.

Dastan smiled cheekily, having heard every word they had said about him and Tamina. "They are talking about us," he whispered conspiculously to Tamina at his side who gave the tiniest of nods.

"What are they saying?" she asked, first making sure that no one was paying them any close attention.

The young prince smiled once more, giving her a tiny look out of the corner of his blue eye. "They are trying to find out what the significance of the 'Temple' really is. One man over there even suggested that it must be the place where we are going to elope," he added happily, biting back a chuckle when he saw the look on Tamina's face. For a moment, she looked absolutely furious and even raised her dark head and glared at the people behind her, making them suddenly stop talking. "Now, we aren't going to hear the rest of the story because they know that we can hear them," Dastan whined.

Tamina rolled her eyes, her face becoming slightly softer. "You have no intellectual thoughts, do you? Really, coming up with a little rumor like that?" she whispered with a slight bite in her high voice.

Dastan starting shaking his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. "No, he actually said that."

"People don't get married at the Temple," Tamina said simply, fiddling with the bounds around her wrists.

The young prince raised his eyebrows. "Where do they get married then?"

Tamina blushed madly and refused to look him in the eye, only toying with the ropes. She hissed slightly when the rope cut into her sensitive skin, red blood beginning to drip slowly. When the rope rubbed up against it again, she made a quiet and muffled yelp, the ropes burning her skin.

"Her bonds are too tight!" Dastan yelled behind them to Amar. He walked calmly up to Tamina and grasped her hands, and even though his own hands were drawn together, he worked with the defect and tenderly pulled the rope away from the small cut. "Princess, it isn't even that big of a cut," he mused. She was about to retort when he quickly continued. "But nevertheless, we need to get it cleaned before an infection sets in. Amar, I need water!"

"You don't have any authority here, Persian!" The Sheikh said stubbornly as he walked up to Tamina, taking her hands roughly in his own, making her grunt in pain. He investigated the wound a little and loosened the bonds, making Tamina sigh with relief, though the cut still burned. "I need some water over here!" he ordered, making Dastan roll his eyes.

The youngest prince walked back up to Tamina and looked at Amar while taking a protective position over Tamina as if they were already married and had been for ages. "Do you have any idea of what you're doing?"

Amar glared and growled at Dastan, but no matter the intimidation Amar tried to incorporate, there was nothing that would get him away from Tamina. "Fine, Persian, have it your way! Bandage the girl's wrist, but no funny business," Amar warned, and at Dastan's nod of agreement, he took off the bonds, passing over the water along with a rag.

"You really think I don't know how to clean a wound?" Tamina asked playfully, snatching away the rag and water. "Remember, I am not some slave girl, I am actually capable of voicing and acting how I choose."

Dastan nodded, but nevertheless took the rag and water away from her, causing her to give him a glare. "I know that characteristic of you fairly well. As for you wrist, it's your right wrist and you can't write with your left. So don't even tell me that you can do it on your own when I know fully well that you can't. Plus, this also gives me a chance to get out of my restraints for a while."

Tamina merely glared at him, though after a while, succumbed and passed him her wrist, hearing several people already beginning to whisper. "Honestly, if they already think that we are getting married, why does it matter that you clean a wound for me?" she asked hostilely, making him chuckle. "It is an innocent question, Prince."

The Persian shook his head, his attention on the cut. "This may sting just a little," he warned before placing the wet cloth on her cut. She winced slightly, but did not make a sound. "It would be a lot more benficial if we had some alcohol with us. That way, we could really clean the wound out entirely."

"But we don't. Wrap up my hand and give it back to me, please," she said passively. He nodded and did what she asked, and just for show, even placing a delicate kiss on the back of it, making everyone around them make little sounds of interest. She snatched her hand away, slapping him on the arm. "Don't do that," she said, trying to be firm, but she couldn't force back the pleasant tingles that were still lingering on the back of her hand.

* * *

They slept outside that night, the bounds around the captives' wrists replaced, (around Tamina's a little more gently), and a small mat was laid out for each of them, along with the rest of the company.

Tall trees surrounded them, their rubbery leaves giving faint rustles whenever the wind would blow through their accepting branches. Small bushes would shiver and the men would hug their furs closer, burying themselves in their own warmth, praying to keep out the unwelcome wind.

A small fire sat in the middle of the camp, the flames flickering in defiance when that wind would sing through their camp, refusing to go out. It crackled with delight whenever it would comtinue to triumph over the earth and her forces as if nothing was too powerful for it.

However, beneath the sand, a long, slithering firgure traversed, its scaly head emerging from the heated sand and a long black tongue zipping in and out of its fanged mouth. It approached Seso, drawing its entire body out of the sand, quiet as the prey that it would hunt.

Seso opened two dark eyes sleepily, as if beginning to turn over into a more comfortable sleeping position when he caught eyes with the snake. He knew that one bite would be enough to kill three men in a matter of seconds. The knives that loved Seso would do nothing for him now. He was going to die.

Slowly, he raised himself on his elbow, trying to remain as calm as possible, though inside, his heart was racing in fear and worry.

The deadly snake opened its wide jaws, bearing two long, white fangs dripping with venom - the venom that was going to be injected into Seso's bloodstream.

Though, right as the snake made its prepared hissing sound, a long, firey arm swept in, taking the vile creature and throwing it into the fire, the reptile hissing in pain and writhing in the accpeting flames. Dastan stood at the end of firey arm, which only turned out to be one of the kindling for the fire.

Tamina's eyes burst open, and she looked up at Dastan with the tiniest flicker of fear in her still drowsy eyes, though he did not see it. He was now focused on all of the other snakes that had joined the leading snake, jumping out of thier sand nests as if they had springs at the end of their tails. All found one target, driving their strong, dripping fangs into the throat of an unsuspecting man, killing him within an instant.

Dastan looked around him, and said as calmly as he could manage, "Give me the dagger. There are too many of them." More and more snakes jumped out of the sand, killing two more of Amar's men. Dastan's voice became more urgent and angry every second, "You can't kill them all. You want to live? Give me the dagger!" he screamed at Seso, praying that he wasn't already too late.

Seso drew the ornate blade and slit Dastan's bonds, then threw the knife at Dastan, not really knowing what Dastan was going to do with just the knife. He already had the fire in one hand, and Seso knew just by holding the highly decorated piece of weaponry that it wasn't even that sharp, and it wouldn't do much damage to one of the snakes unless he was very accurate in his cutting.

But the prince knew what he was doing. He caught the dagger agilely, banging the jewel button against his leg, everything suddenly stopping in time, a large snake coming out of the sand, mouth already poised for attack, the fangs just inches from his face. Dastan jumped back out of his body, his chest glowing orange and the dagger looking like the brightest beacon in the dark night sky, even brighter than the fire.

Then, everything began to rewind - snakes sinking back into their holes, Tamina falling back down to the ground.

But everything didn't go back far enough, and Dastan soon heard himself say once more, "Give me the dagger!" He once more caught the dagger thrown at him, well prepared for the snake that was about to jump out of the ground, ready to kill him. With the log, Dastan smacked the beast in midair, then grabbing it and quickly decapitating it with the dagger. Another snake jumped up at him, but still, Dastan was too quick and stomped his foot right on the snake, proud to hear the pained hissing coming from below his booted foot. Once more, another jumped out, trying to do anything to kill this unstoppable rival, but even from behind this animal would get no closer than the ones before him. Dastan jutted his left arm back, the fire at the end of the log going straight into the open mouth of the snake. He threw the log violently, the snake being consequently thrown off of the end and its body colliding with a tree. The still burning fire at the end of the branch went down on the snake below Dastan's foot, right in the head, killing it with the immeasureable heat. With one last courageous move, Dastan threw the dagger with pin point accuracy to the tree behind him, just between Tamina and Amar, the knife gliding through the air as if it were butter, decapitating yet another unfortunate snake. The jaws bit down one last time, the fallen piece of the animal dropped down, right into Amar's lap. Tamina groaned in disgust and Amar just looked startled and slightly disturbed by the head resting on his crossed legs.

"Persian, how..." Amar drifted, while Tamina only continued looking back and forth between Dastan and the snake head. "How did you do that?" Amar asked, looking confused and still rather shocked by the show he was just given.

Dastan trumped over to their tree, pulling the dagger out of the now bleeding bark. He looked down at Amar, shrugging his shoulders. "Instinct," he said, though the answer was more of a question than an actual statement. He turned around to Tamina, looking at her with a little mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. He grinned, pretending to look completely innocent, though he was far from it. "What?" he asked, trying his best to sound sincere, though she saw right through him, giving him a little smirk of her own. Dastan put the knife in between her hands, cutting the bonds.

He jumped away from Tamina, trying to get over to the other men who had been bitten by the snakes when something caught his eye. It was another sand dervish, and this time, Dastan recognized it. He squinted his eyes, studying the part of nature that he knew now was not a true part of nature. Hassansin.

Tamina saw it too, though she looked confused still. She glanced at Dastan, trying to discern what was going on, but he told nothing in his eyes.

"We have to get out of here," he said simply, looking after the disappearing dervish that seemed to just whirl away.

* * *

They left right then, packing up all of the necessities, leaving everything else behind, including the men who did not make it through the night. Dastan recognized one of the men - the same man who had first thought that he and Tamina wanted to go to the Temple only to get married. Oh, how wrong he was. But perhaps it was better for him now. Now that he was dead. He didn't have to worry about anything in the world now, or if the world would come to an end, or if good would triumph over evil like it had in storybooks. Dastan sighed. This wasn't a storybook. This was real. And the young prince did not know what he was going to do. Who was to say that good would still triumph over evil? There was no law written down anywhere claiming that Dastan had any special priviledges. He was only human. And whatever would happen, would happen.

"They are all dead," Tamina said to him softly, coming up behind him. "Dastan, we need to leave. Remember?" she asked timidly. "Come away from the man. He is gone." She turned away from him and began walking.

"Do you think that it was a good thing that he died? So that now he wouldn't have to suffer the not knowing of how this story is going to end?" he asked her.

She stopped and turned back to him, staring at him carefully. "Dastan, death has never meant to be an alternative. Even if he was alive right now, he still would not know everything that was happening. Only you and I do. Knowledge is a gift, Dastan, even though it may not appear to be. We have the chance to change the outcome of a catastrophic event. Would you rather not know anything of our world and simply leave it all up to chance? Or would you rather be able to do something about it, and even save the world and all of its peoples?" She walked up to him once more, looking up into his eyes. "If you had the chance to undo everything that has been done, you wouldn't hesitate. Well now, you have the chance to prevent the deaths of innocent lives - children and mothers - from happening at all."

Dastan nodded, looking away from her. "Alright. Let's go," he said resolutely, and she gave him a sad smile and nodded, already beginning to walk away towards Amar and the rest of the suriving members.

* * *

They trekked through the painful cold of the mountains, all of the familiar heat from their desert home gone, as if it had never once existed. The brown, dusty hills of the desert were slowly morphing into sharp and pointed mountains, drizzled with a light snow. Small white stars fell from the darkened sky, falling on the worn and wary travellers.

Tamina, the Princess of Alamut led the company, walking briskly at the front of the line, either not noticing or ignoring the occasional groan or grunt of pain that came from behind her. She didn't even watch the mountains as they gathered more bright forms of weather, only studying the road on which she was walking on and leading on.

Dastan followed quietly, quite able to tell that she was too busy thinking to engage in any type of conversation. He was grateful the they didn't have to walk with ropes tied around thier wrists, but he knew that no matter what the current circumstance was, they would never fully be trusted.

Too much had happened in the past days and nights to forget, and though Dastan's actions the night before were heroic (there was no questioning such a thing) it still wasn't absolutely clear as to whose side the two stubborn people were on.

Sometimes, they seemed hell-bent on making Amar's life a living hell, while at other times, only overwhelming gratitude could be used to describe Dastan and Tamina, (at least in Seso's case whose life would have most definitely ended the past night if Dastan had not been there. Just like he owed Amar, he owed Dastan. Enduringly indebted was what Amar liked to call it, but the both of them knew that Seso was able to leave whenever he wanted, though he allowed Amar to ramble on about 'owning' a man as skilled as he, though 'owning' was never once talked about between the two of them. Often, Amar would talk of his position in the group or in teh now destroyed Valley of the Slaves, but never would he go as far as slavery. Maybe because he was too frightened to say something that offensive to someone as powerful as a Ngbaka, or maybe it really was because he knew that no matter how many times Amar would (or could) save his life, Seso would always remain a free man.

So as the snow continued to fall and the horde of men walked, Sheikh Amar finally gathered up some courage and asked, "Wha-What happened last night?" Even after knowing a Ngbaka for as long as he had, Amar had never ever seen such a confident specticle from anyone, even Seso. He just didn't understand how any of it was even remotely possible.

Dastan bowed his head; he had been expecting this question for the entire walk, so much so, he had even thought of a responce in advance. "Those vipers were controlled by Hassansins," he put simply, Tamina casting him an uneasy glance out of the corner of her eye. She had heard of those foul beasts, but it had been her understanding that their treasured organization had dissolved some years ago. They were still working. And not without a purpose no doubt.

Amar began feeling a little nervous now. He too had heard of the "breed" and just like everyone else, he stopped caring about the infernal "army" once King Sharaman had disbanded them. "Hassansins?" he asked, hardly believing his ears that after all of those years, he was still gathering information about them. He looked down, trying not to show his fear, but he knew that he was being rather unconvincing.

The prince nodded and calmly explained, "For years, they were teh covert killing for of the Persian kings until my father ordered them disbanded. Nizam," he added with a touch of anger. "must have disobeyed my father's orders and kept them intact," he ended, looking at Tamina who nodded in understanding but did not say anything.

Amar, looked up, now knowing the terror that he faced staying with the two of them. They had Hassansins on their trail which meant death wherever they went. But since Amar desired to portray himself as someone who was always brave, he said with a touch of humour, trying desperately just to lighten the subject, "This secret government killing activity, that's why I don't pay taxes." The monarchs in front of them smiled at his little jest, though they both knew that there was nothing at all to be smiling or even smirking about. Things were grim.

"We can't stop," Dastan said afterwards without question, even taking longer strides to propel the others like they were already behind.

Amar would not have this. He had already lost men, and he did not want to lose anymore on the account of two people who he was unlucky enough to cross. "Well, perhaps you can't, but we can."

Dastan groaned angrily, while Tamina turned back to him and yelled positively, "We could use your help getting to the Temple." Even though she was fully aware that she and Dastan were technically Amar's prisoners, she had to have faith in people - that had been what Dastan had taught her thoughout this adventure, though she knew as well as he did that he no longer easily trusted people. Not after what Nizam had done.

Amar nodded in heavy sarcasm. "By crossing the Hindu Kush with a storm blowing?" Tamina turned around and walked back to him, halting the company from going any further. "You attract trouble like flies around rotting mango," Amar carried on. "and you're insane..."

"There's gold at the Temple," Tamina said softly, resting his hand on his arm. Immediately she attracted his attention and his business eyes glowed, mimicking the gold that he surely dreamt about. "More than ten horses can carry," Tamina added, though she already knew that she had Amar hooked on. "Tax free."

"Alright fine!" Amar said after a moment. He pushed Tamina out of the way and continued walking, this time with a faster pace, as if the gold was suddenly going to stand up and walk away from his outstretched hands.

Tamina rolled her eyes and walked back to the front to join Dastan who was smiling proudly at her. "Has anyone told you how cunning you are, Princess?" he asked smartly. "Or do you not let them get in a word edgewise?"

The Princess scoffed. "And Prince, has anyone told you that you ought to have an affair with yourself? You love yourself as if you are your own lover," she retorted. He chuckled and nodded, dakr hair falling into his tan face.

"Many times, Princess, many times. My best friend, Bis even..." Dastan's throat clenched at the thought of Bis, a friend since childhood, even before he was adopted into his father's palace. Bis and him had grown up together, and just before his own eyes, he had seen his best friend, practically another brother die a death he did not deserve.

Tamina laid a hand on his arm thoughtfully. "You cannot keep reminding yourself of these things, Dastan. It is already hard enough not even having the time to grieve. Don't make it harder for yourself by living in the past. It's done. Not even the dagger can turn back that far."

"You seem to be bursting with wisdom as of late, Princess," Dastan commented after a moment, taking her thoughts and deciding to push Bis and the rest of his troubles out of his mind, at least for now.

"Only because you keep asking for it."

"I have never asked for advice."

"Yes, but you get that look in your eye like the world is going to end if someone doesn't give you a couple of well-put words so that you feel better."

Dastan rolled his eyes, "Well, then maybe you could give me some advice as to how to cease your talking."

"I don't know what I ever saw in you," Tamina growled playfully.

"Not saw. _See. _There's a difference."

"Obviously."

* * *

**See? I give you a chapter on Wednesday, just like I promised. It is 10:00 here, so this still counts. So, maybe a little more fanfic'd than I thought, but hey? That's why you're here, correct? Alright, so suggestions? I am going to try to have a little Hassansin mind-talk-thingy thing that I do just so that we can be a little un status quo. Pretty excited, I gotta say. **

**Now, I suppose I must inform you all that right now...this is finals week. One of two bloody weeks in the school year that make me want to cry. Right now, I could be studying for Biology (which I hear is death on paper, I might add, though that's not important) or I could be writing my 5 essays for English. And yet, here I am on fanfiction, updating my story for you guys because I told you I would. I have just made quite a big sacrifice here, people, and all I ask for is a review. That's it. I put my grades on the line so that I can keep you guys happy. Please return the favor and brighten my day by giving me a review. Even if it's constructive critisism. I LOVE IT ALL! **

**Thank you, you guys! Love you! - Books**


	13. Ambush at the Temple

**A promise is a promise, and thus I am here on this foggy Saturday evening. (seriously, it's really foggy here.) So guys, *sniffles* we breached the goal for getting 94 reviews. We officially have 95 reviews. Sure, it's only a one review difference, but I think that it is absolutely fantastic to see all this coming through as brilliantly as it has. Perhaps we could try to shoot for 100 this chapter, eh? Remember, the 100th reviewer gets a shoutout in the next chapter. Also *rubs hands together* **_THIS IS IMPORTANT!_** I have also decided that whoever the 100th reviewer is, I am going to write them a one-shot of PoP. Dastan/Tamina, Hassansins, Garsiv, Tus, Nizam, anything! Just for you! However, I am not going to write anything M rated. T is as far as I go. But hey, you get a one-shot dedicated to you! **

**And now, we come to the realization that this story, one that I have enjoyed writing, is coming to an end. The movie is almost finished, so now, we come once more to the topic of continuation. I am willing to do anything that you guys wanna do (this is your story, after all) I can continue writing, or we could branch off of this one and make a sequel, or just stop entirely. (Frankly, I'm a little against this one, but like I said, this is your choice)**

**So here is the story! Action packed, this one! Yay!**

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The rest of the trip to the Temple was rather uneventful, though Amar ceaseless drabbled on about what he was going to do with all of the gold that he was going to get his hands on. Kept saying that he was going to buy more ostriches and upgrade the disintegrated race track. He would pause for a moment after that, then darkly muttering that he was going to have a better security this time around. Whenever he would get to that part in the repeated script, Dastan swore that he could feel daggers glaring at him through the Sheik's eyes. It was as if, for that brief moment, that Amar wished that Dastan would crumple onto the ground and lie there helplessly, dying. However, Seso would always intervene, most of the time pointing out how many times Amar had gone through the whole charade. Everyone was getting rather tired of it, needless to say.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Dastan asked Tamina after about the tenth time Amar had gone through his little cycle. Gold was the only thing on that man's mind, Dastan thought without a doubt.

Tamina nodded with resolution. "I memorized this path as a child." She took a deep breath, responsibility filling her lungs. "Every princess must. It's sacred." It was required of her to be the Guardian of the Dagger. She knew where her place was and what she was meant to be doing for the rest of her life. Fate had dictated all of that the moment the beautiful princess was born. There would never be an opportunity to live like a normal human being and do the things that everyone else talked about doing. Even the most boring of boring things like washing clothes or cleaning the banisters of stairs seemed appealing. Just to live like a human being, and be obligated to do just one thing. She could be free.

Dastan never seemed to have any trouble feeling 'free'. He was still a prince, and he cared greatly for his people, but there always seemed to be a way for him to find a moment to relax and think about whatever he wanted to think about. Even on this adventure, Tamina was able to gather all of that. Dastan was a man who was not to be contained under any means. He was to do whatever he wanted to do. And like Tamina, he did not like having anyone give him orders or demand something from him. Unless of course, they were his family, but by the way things were currently going, the only order they would be giving him right now would be to die.

She sighed and continued walking, the prince either not noticing or choosing not to act on her sudden thoughts. He always seemed to know when she did not want her thoughts interrogated about.

They continued their walk, the cold getting colder every step they took, snow sometimes coming to drift down from their heavenly abode. The clouds began growing in size, their once fluffy, pure white, now darkened into something foreboding and overbearing. Dastan shivered involuntarily, the feeling of insecurity and helplessness creeping into his soul and burying its roots down deep into the consciousness of his mind. He did not like this place. He knew that he needed to be there for the dagger's safety, and he knew that he needed and wanted to be there for Tamina, but he also knew that the sooner he would be back in the simple over heated desert, the better he would feel.

Beside him, Tamina gasped, her pace quickening and her stride growing in length until the point that Dastan was having trouble keeping up with her. "It's here!" he heard she whisper excitedly. Her brown eyes gained that familiar little twinkle of assurance. The prince pulled the horse with him, coming to a halt where Tamina sat in the unordered and dead grass. Her cream colored cloak draped over her small shoulders, her black hair coming out of the braid. Her eyes watered slightly, pride beaming through her chocolate pools.

"The sanctuary," she said softly and without hesititation. If there was anyone she could have been with at that moment, she knew that that only person would be Dastan. She was glad that he was there to share that moment with her, even though their errand was urgent and did need to be handled quickly. But afterwards, things would be better. She would have a chance at a normal life, or at least a life that involved Dastan. She would never be free, but she would never be alone either. Dastan would be there with her for every step of the way through her troubled life, just like she would be there for him when he needed her. "The one place the dagger can be hidden safely," she continued.

Behind the two, they both heard a disappointed grumble coming from none other than Amar. "I was expecting golden statues, waterfalls."

Tamina smiled a little, her eyes clearing with determination. She was going to make things right. She stood, Dastan coming to stand just beside her as he looked on. "Give me back the dagger so that I can take it there." She looked at him and met his blue eyes. They were calm and steady, staring right down into the depths of her very soul. She loved those eyes.

Dastan bent over slowly, never breaking his eye-contact with Tamina, as if fearing that everything was going to break if he tore his eyes away from her for only a moment. He pulled the dagger out of his boot, holding it out to her. She smiled and gently took the dagger from his calloused hands. She immediately thought back to when she had knocked him out with a bone just when they had enetered the Valley of the Slaves. Now, he was willingly giving it to her. Things had changed since that day, and so much had happened.

He softly grinned. "Don't cut yourself, Princess." She smirked playfully though not retorting. She simply walked away, her destination already clear in her mind. She was confident that everything would go well.

From a small distance, Dastan heard Seso yell, his hands beckoning to Dastan and Tamina. "Hey! Here!" he called, looking down and around him, a small fog playing back behind him.

The two monarchs ran up to him at once, and both of their eyes widened in shock when they saw it. Men, all over the place, dead. Frost from the night longering on their already decaying flesh and dried blood clinging to some of thier chests. The hands of the men were painted in black stars, just like Tamina's hands had been, Dastan noted. These were keepers of the secret as well. Short, slender knives, poked from the breasts of men, the poison from their tips already embedded into their no longer active blood stream.

Seso watched the two of them stare down at the numerous dead bodies that ornamented the streets of the little town. They both looked too shocked to even think coherent thoughts, let alone speak. "Not long dead," he told them. "Last night maybe. Tortured first." He didn't tell them about the other men they had found. Not with the girl there. Some of those men had been mutilated into things that were not human. It had been disgusting and terrible to even glance at; he was sure that Dastan would not want the girl to see such things. "Hassansin." There was no other group that could have done something this wretched and dishonorable.

Dastan began breathing deeply, while Tamina only looked like she wanted to cry. "Nizam knows this place," Dastan said curtly. He cursed fouly, not bothering to apologize to Tamina for his choice of words. He knew that she must have been thinking them too. The prince kicked the dirt in anger. Why did everything have to make his life a living hell? There was no other word for it. Everything was collapsing in on him, and he was given barely any time to recuperate.

Amar came out of a little hut, his hands setting on his belt. "All dead."

Tamina stood, looking back up a stoic mountain, tears slowly beginning to drip out of her eyes. She began running to that mountain, pushing past Amar. "The entire villiage," he continued, not seeing her distress. "Uh, my gold?" he asked with question, but she was already long gone, Dastan being the only one brave enough to follow her.

"Where are you going?" Dastan yelled to her as he ran.

"There is only one way to stop all of this," she told him simply, not breaking her stride once.

"What?" Dastan asked confused. They began climbing up a rocky pathway leading them all the way to the top it seemed.

"To make sure the dagger is safe."

"What?" he asked once more.

"The Temple holds the stone the dagger came from," she rambled.

"What Temple?" Dastan asked once more saracastically. "This is a pile of stones and rocks!" he gestured to ground below his feet to prove it.

"The first thing we learned, if all else fails, put the dagger back into the stone. The stone will envelop it. Pull it into the mountain, returning it to the gods." She continued walking and finally came to the hole in the mountain where the stone was. There, inside was a man who had lost his life defending the dagger that he had never even seen, most likely. His crinkled head leaned back against the stone behind him; three darts were penetrated into his skin and one projected from his throat, blood now crimson and crusty against the skin.

Tamina whimpered, wanting to hide in Dastan's neck that now stood behind her. He would hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. She knew it. But she knew that that was not what she was supposed to do right now. She still had her duties. Her only duty. Her last duty.

Dastan stood close behind her, his nose only inches away from the skin of her cheek. She looked ill from seeing the man there in front of her, and all he wanted to do was make her look away. She did not need to see something that terrible. Being a man of war, Dastan had grown accostomed to seeing men's bodies violated, however he had never grown comfortable with it. It was terrible. Even seeing the enemies' side torn to pieces was terrible. "Tamina, don't look at him," he told her gently, bringing her face to look at his. Her eyes flickered back to the man there, but he grasped her chin tighter in his hand, and she looked at him. Finally he let go after a moment, knowing she would not look back.

"Dastan, the original promise must be paid," she told him tragically, wishing desperately with all of her heart that there would be something that she could do to change the situation, but there was nothing.

"What promise?" he asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer or not. Judging by the tone of her sweet voice, he knew that he would not be happy with the answer, but he would have to support her. And he would.

She blinked painfully. "The gods must take back the life they spared," she said with ther voice catching in her throat.

Dastan froze. No. He would not support something as irrational as this. He couldn't. She began walking away from him, leaving him to stand alone. "That'll means you'll die," he said, pointing out the obvious.

Tamina felt her heart breaking in two. She knew that he wouldn't want her to go through with it, but she knew that she had to. Hearing him say that almost made her want to cry. He cared about her! Not about the dagger! He actually cared about _her_. And now that she had finally found him, she would have to be torn away from him just to make everything right.

Just then, before Dastan could get in another word, he heard horses and shouting, all coming from different directions. He briskly walked to the opening and saw before him all of his brother's men. Along with Garsiv. He turned back around; he had to warn the others. But already Garsiv was there, standing above the little cave, his sword pointing down at Garsiv and his walk the walk of a predator. "Stay there!" his brother yelled in his deep, raspy voice. "Stay there!" he repeated, beginning to make his way down to his brother who was looking at a loss. "Stay there!"

"Listen to me," Dastan said, holding his hands out in a gesture of surrender. When Garsiv didn't stop progressing, Dastan yelled back, "Listen to me!"

"Give me your sword!" Garsiv said, holding out his hand for the sword. Dastan ignored it and tried to continue reasoning with his brother, but Garsiv did not seem to listen. "Give me your sword, or do you forsake even that honor?"

Dastan pushed the sword away from his throat. "There are bodies down there," he said as calmly as he could. He knew that if he tried anything with his brother, Garsiv would kill him. "Murdered by Hassansin on NIzam's order! He's the traitor!" Garsiv looked incredulous and scoffed.

"Hassansins no longer exist! You always thought you were so clever." Dastan shook his head, already feeling at a loss. Behind him, he heard Tamina struggling with Garsiv's men. They were all at a loss.

"No, this is not trick, Garsiv."

"Sir!" a voice shouted from beyond his brother, and a lieutenant walked up to the scene. "All dead inside, sir. More in the villiage." Dastan walked into a little hut, already finding two dead bodies, one even being decapitated. Garsiv followed him in.

"There's one in there and..." Dastan started, pointing to the people who had lost their lives.

"Stay there!" the middle prince shouted, but walked into the little room, nevertheless. He saw the decapitated body and felt remorse. Something was going on, and the middle prince knew that somewhere in Dastan's story, there had to be at least a little bit of truth behind it. These bodies had to be at least a day old, and he knew that Dastan and the company that he had been travelling with had only just gotten there.

"Nizam wants me dead," Dastan said simply, looking at the back of his brother's armour. "Wants me silenced. A trial would be too pulic." Garsiv turned around to face his brother, alertness showing in his dark eyes. "You know this?" Dastan asked amazed. "He said as much, didn't he?" he guessed. "I know it hasn't been easy between us, Garsiv," he said kindly, walking boldly up to face his brother and heard the man behind him draw his sword. "but still, we are brothers."

"Touching words with my sword at your throat," Garsiv said, however this time, his threat wasn't nearly as strong as is had been in Avrat. He backed Dastan up to his lieutenant, though Dastan kept circling, his pride never faltering once.

"You often questioned why Father spent so much time in prayer. Before he died, he told that the bond between brothers is the sword that defends our empire. He was praying that that sword remain strong. Why would I go into Avrat at Father's funeral when I knew it was so dangerous?" Dastan said in a rush, anything to get his brother to listen to him. Garsiv seemed to take the bait as he gestured to his man to step outside, giving Dastan a leap of faith. Maybe things would turn out better than he had originally thought.

"Nizam recommended your death," Garsiv said, looking into his brother's eyes, finally seeing the truth that had been there the entire time. "Tus disagreed, ordered you brother back alive."

Dastan nodded. "Nizam wants me dead, and he's hired the Hassansins to make sure that that does happen," he told his brother, finally feeling more confident in all of the choas. "He's afraid of what I might say and who I might tell."

The gaze of his older brother softed greatly as he continued to stare at the innocent prince. "Tell me, brother," he finally said, making Dastan smile.

Just as Dastan was about to tell his brother everything, swords clanged in the distance and a grunt of pain could be heard, and then a bigger commotion started. Garsiv turned away from his brother and walked out of the hut. "Garsiv?" Dastan called. But Garsiv did not liten and walked out, and almost immediately, little daggers hailed from an unknown source and when the middle prince took a step forward, he grunted in pain. He looked down at his chest to see what had happened and there, staring up at him were at least five sticks of sharp metal.

"Garsiv? Garsiv!" Dastan called, running out to see his brother and the lieutenant lying there, dead. More darts dived down through the air and only missed the youngest prince by inches. "Hassansins!" he screamed, alerting everyone. A man jumped down from his foggy hiding place, a long bladed staff in his hand and his skin dressed in the blackest clothing. More and more followed him, some with ropes, some with fireballs, and others with just swords, but they were no less deadly. All of thier contraptions had been designed by demons and worshiped by demons, their weapons so cunningly accurate that just by themselves they looked terrifying. They began shooting spikes every which way, killing all that came in thier path.

Tamina looked at them and knew that her chance of survival was not good. She was going to die, but she had to get the dagger to safety. That was the main priority. She turned and ran to the Temple.

All of the men around them were dying, some Hassansins were throwing balls of fire, bruning their victims to death, while others were simply killing them maliciously with their sharp, curved swords. They showed no mercy.

Amar ran and hid behind a chicken coop, the birds inside screaming and flapping their wings in fright. "Shut up, shut up!" he yelled at them.

Tamina grabbed a sword, just for a little protection and continued walking, though her short walk was interrupted by another Hassansin. For a brief moment, she hoped that he hadn't seen her, but she knew that he had. He was pale, the palest man that she had ever seen, and the right side of his face was scarred and wrinkled, as if something memorable had been lost in time and the only reminder was the pain of looking at that mark every day for the rest of his life. He eyes though, were what caught her attention. They were a startling blue, though unlike Dastan's eyes that made her feel safe and loved, these eyes were cold and cunning. He licked his lips playfully and advanced towards her.

The Princess had never fought in a battle before; she held onto the hilt clumsily, though the look in her eyes was determined. She made the best attempts for an attack, already beginning to feel her body get tired with the wuick movements. Though, to her dismay, he blocked every single attack that she made without worry. He was enjoying himself.

From the right of her, she heard her Dastan. He had come for her. "Protect the dagger!" he yelled. He pushed her aside roughly and made a protective stance over her fallen form. Dastan glared at the man, already knowing that this was the leader of them all. He crouched low in front of Tamina, giving a faint growl in the back of his throat. He had decided that there was going to be no way that this man, or any other man for that matter, would get past him. If they wanted Tamina, they would have to kill him first.

The Hassansin stood straighter and looked at the two of them and then began chuckling darkly. "The Persian has fallen in love with the Guardian," he mocked. "Guardians don't love, Prince Dastan," he said hideously.

"Stay away from her," Dastan hissed back and surprised his opponent by jumping out at him, giving Tamina the ulitmate chance to escape to the Temple. She got up and ran, turning back to look at Dastan fighting. Dastan was a challenge for the Hassansin, no doubt, but she knew that the cruel man would play dirty, and there would be nothing that Dastan would be able to do to stop that from happening. However, quickly Dastan seemed to tealize that aswell and abandoned the man, running to fight another.

"Persian!" Seso yelled at Dastan. "Behind you!" he continued. Dastan turned and sliced his sword through the air, the balde making contact with skin. Dastan pulled it back and stabbed it backward now, into the gut of the Hassansin, killing him. He then took a small knife and threw it, the blade embedding itself in the throat of another nearby. He ran to the man and pulled off the fire-balls, tossing them to Seso. He cast a look around. "Tamina!" he yelled, looking for her, before funally, his gaze went upwards and he saw the princess already running to the Temple. "Tamina!" he screamed, running up to catch her. "Forget them!" he yelled to Seso. "Throw these!" he tossed the bag of the fire-balls to him, and Seso quickly utilized the new weapon.

Seso began fighting another, throwing a knife that missed the man that was coming at him only by centimeters. The Ngbaka was defenseless. Jus then, Amar came out from behind his hiding place, facing the man. "Hey!" He caught his attention. "You know what they say about men with big swords?" He held out his pinky and bent it up and down in a little attempt at humor. When he saw that it wasn't going to work, he held out his own sword, the end being cut off just a second later. The Hassansin smiled. Amar threw the hilt and the shortened sword at Seso who twirled it in his hands. Seso threw the knife with such speed that before anothe second passed, the sword dug deep into the brain of the man who soon fell to the ground. Amar gave him a thumbs up and continued on.

Dastan ran to Tamina and doun her in a lit cave, the woman walking through the water towards a light that glowed from the side of the mountain wall. "Tamina!" he called, making her stop in her motions. "Let me do it," he told her. He would not lose her. He couldn't lose her.

Tamina bit her lip for a moment then responded with pain buried in her voice, "Only a Guardian can return the dagger. This isn't something you can do, Dastan." She looked forward again towards the little star. "I'm ready for this." She began walking forward again, only to have Dastan jump from the little cliff into the water with her, getting in her way.

"I'm not. Tamina, you can't do this! Please! I've already lost my father and brother! Don't make me lose you!" he pleaded with her.

"I'm sorry, Dastan. But this is for the better," she said painfully. "You will see."

"No." Her eyes widened slightly, and then he half closed his eyes and leaned in to her, Tamina following suit. She wanted to kiss him for so long. It would be the last thing that she would ever do, and she would forever be satisfied. Shepushed her hands out behind him the tip almost going into the stone.

* * *

**Yes! My first big cliffie! However, I should think that most of you already know what happens after all of this stuff so... But just in case. I wanted to see how it would turn out. :) Kay, so I apologize for the spelling and/or grammar/puncuation in this one. It's one am here, and I am really tired and don't want to read through the whole thing. I was looking at the screen for most of the time, so I should have caught most of them anyway. (Yes, it's Sunday, but I have been writing since Saturday. This counts.)**

**Remember, 100 reviews... and you get a shout out, and your own story. All of you will be able to read it, but it will specifically be for this person. Pretty cool, right? One of my other writers did something like this, so I thought that I would give it a try. :)**

**And finals are finally (haha, no pun intended there) over, so things shouldn't be so stressful for a while. At least not until next finals. Grr. **

**Well, thanks guys, and I love you all! - Books**


	14. Battle for Life Begins

**And...we're back! Congratulations to bellathedisenchanted for being the 100th reviewer! In case you guys haven't read it yet, I did a little one-shot for Dastan and Tamina called "Thanks to the Apple". Please read and review that one too. There are also some honorable mentions here, people who consistently reviewed on almost every chapter, or every one. They are Transitions End, leoshunny1985, and GottaLoveMEgan. Anf of course, bellathedisenchanted. Thank you all so much for your undying support in all of this. Very great. :)**

**So here is the next chapter, and people don't be disheartened if you didn't get. I am going to do this for every 100 reviews, so you guys have a chance. :)**

**Here we are!**

Tamina close her eyes, waiting for the kiss to come. She would hold back her hand for that moment, and then she would be able to die happy. Though siddenly, pain erupted in her wrist, twisting it in a position that was not natural. She screamed in pain and fell backward, hitting her head on a rock behind her.

Dastan watched her fall, her eyes closed shut. "Tamina!" he screamed, though he knew that there was no time to bend over and take care of her. Something had grabbed her wrist. He looked around him wildly, and from out of no where, a long whip vaporized, the end covered in spikes and and arrowhead graced the end. The prince jumped back, the arrowhead pausing for a brief moment in time pointing right at his nose.

The Hassansin on the other end pulled it back, allowing Dastan to climb back up and out of the water hole. He automatically began fighting with the heavily cloaked man, unaware of a viper sliming over Tamina. Though the snake had other thoughts on his mind. True, it could kill the girl, but it slithered off of her wrist, straight to the jeweled dagger that had fell out of her grasp during her own fall.

Dastan stood on a rock, twenty feet away from the Hassansin who continuing swirling around the whip, giving the prince only seconds to swing his sword to push away the whip when it came too close. Whenever he did, he could feel pain tearing at his shoulder, but now, he did not pay any heed to it. The Hassansin used one of the whips, (Dastan found out quickly that he indeed did have two) the ending of this particular one sculpted like a hand, and latched it onto the rock wall, using it to send him flying towards Dastan. While soaring through the air, the Hassansin used the other whip, though Dastan manuevered around it deftly, jumping off of his rock to another, while twirling his body through the air. The Hassansin continued moving, never giving Dastan a moment to breath, continuing to lash out with his whips, the clawed one finally making contact with Dastan, catching his foot and sending the prince toppling over behind one of the rocks. His back hit hard against a rock, and without stopping, Dastan swung his blade, meeting the whip once more. As soon as it made contact, he ran, the Hassansin chasing after him like it was some sort of game that the two were playing.

The Persian ran out of the cave turning right, hitting away the whip yet another time, and ran to the left now as the Hassansin came out. Dastan stood on the rock for only a brief moment before jumping backwards and spinning in the air with a grunt on his lips. He hit the whip again and jumped sideways, his body parallel to the ground for a quick moment and he spun hismelf through the air. The Hassansin jumped down on the same rock once he was done with his landing, Dastan already running away. He knew that there was no possibility that he was going to win against this man. His body ached and was tired, and he knew that he didn't have much hope.

However, below him stood the head one, looking down on the rest of the battle, Dastan's men dying at the hands of Nizam's slaves. "Out! Enough! Out!" he heard the head one chastise, and almost immediately, they began to disperse, running back the way they came, though not without finishing off the current man they were fighting with first.

Dastan had a chance. It was a small one, but he had a chance. He swung his blade at the Hassansin, who now had gotten close enough to fight with swords, though the enemy easily avoided the strike as if it was nothing at all. The enemy jutted out his own sword, and Dastan was quick to grab the man's wrist; he hit the wrist hard enough to hear a pop and the sword fell to the ground. The Hassansin bellowed, though he used his other arm to swing out at Dastan, effectively catching the prince by the legs, knocking them right out from underneath him, making Dastan fall off of a little cliff down and onto his back. The Hassansin jumped down at his, his arms reaching out like wings and his legs bent like a lion ready to pounce on its prey.

Though in one quick move, a double-headed spear came out of nowhere, standing straight up, waiting for the impact. The gut of the Hassansin was skewered on the spear, drips of blood splattering down on Dastan's alarmed face. He watched the man above him grimace in pain, then be dropped to side, the spear remaining lodged in his stomach. He was dead.

Behind him, he heard a scream of pain, and Dastan turned around quick, seeing his brother panting in shallow breath, one hand lingering on the pole of the spear for a moment before falling to his side. Dastan crawled fast to his brother, calling out his name in surprise. He thought his brother was already gone. But no, his brother had saved his life! "Garsiv!" he called weakly, already hurting by the fact that his brother was going to be taken away from him.

Blood dripped out of his brother's mouth as he continued to fight for the air that seemed to be avoiding his lungs. "Dastan, I'm sorry," he said in a rugged breath. The middle prince of Persia looked up at his brother, holding onto the last seconds with all of his might, though the young man knew that he was fading. "Save the empire!" he croaked, before he gave one final cough, his eyes growing cold and losing their shine.

"Brother," Dastan called, not wanting it be true. "Brother," he said once more, his heart sinking in pain. He had lost his brother. The one he used to tease, the one he would fight with. But Garsiv had always been there for him, always defending him soundly whenever Dastan was mistreated as a boy for not being of royal blood. He loved his brother. And now he was gone. Forever. And it was all because of Nizam.

Behind him, he heard a soft thud, and he turned around quickly, only to see Tamina standing there, her eyes watery and her eyes flashing with worry. She didn't look at him or Garsiv. He stood and walked to her, though she still did not look at him.

"Where is the dagger?" he asked, searching her hands and belt for it, though his search was fruitless. They had only stopped the attack because they already had what they were looking for. They had the dagger.

"It's gone," she said in a hoarse voice, as if she still couldn't believe that everything that was happening was happening. "'Protect the dagger, no matter the consequences.' That was my sacred calling. That was my destiny," she said quietly as Dastan moved to stand in front of her, looking down at the ground dejected. He looked back up at her, meeting her eyes.

He was still panting slightly as he said, "We make our own destiny, Princess." He looked calmly at her, though calm was not what he felt at all. "We'll get it back," he continued simply.

"How?" she asked timidly. He reached up and cupped her face with his hands, dropping his sword to the ground.

"We just will. You have to trust me, Tamina. Do you?" he asked carefully.

Tamina nodded without hesitation, already knowing that she would trust her life if she was at his side. "Then we will," he said softly. He tore his hands away from her face and looked back at his brother. "I have to bury him first. He is my brother," he choked out after a moment. Tamina looked back on the fallen man.

"The gods will shelter him, Dastan. He is not alone in death. No one is," she told him comfortingly, resting a light hand on his shoulder. He walked away from her and crouched down to his brother once more.

He pulled the helmet off of his brother and brushed his hand over the prince eyes, closing them so that he could look at the gods' realm with full clarity. Gently, he bent over and kissed the forehead of his brother. He stood then, once more, and began gathering stones, piling them regretfully on top of his older brother. He never thought that he would have to bury Garsiv. The man who appeared to seem to live forever in battle. Dastan never thought that this would be happening. He wished it wasn't.

His hand dropped the last bit of sand on his brother grave, and then he rested his brother's empty helmet on the tomb. "Good bye, Brother," he murmured. He rose to his feet and looked at the resting place once more. Behind him, he heard Amar chuckling in giddiness. Dastan gritted his teeth. There was nothing to even smile about, let alone be giddy.

"We're gonna need another horse," Amar said happily.

Seso came up to him, though Dastan still did not look at him. "Where will you go?" the knife thrower asked, coming to his side.

The prince sighed. "To Alamut," he said gravely. Amar turned and looked at him, and everyone went silent. Dastan looked around him at the people there. "Nizam will use that dagger to pierce the Sandglass, and he has to be stopped." He walked ahead of them, glaring at the drit below his feet when he heard Amar mocking him.

"'And he has to be stopped. He has to be stopped.' That's good," he laughed. Seso came and walked in front of the Sheikh, not saying anything, just looking at him as if pleading with him. "What? Oh...A knife thrower with a conscience," he said aggravated, though he knew that he was going to have to go with the Persian. If it was something that was a life or death situation for all of mankind, then he needed to be a part of it. It would be a great story for the world to remember him by.

* * *

They travelled through the desert, rarely ever stopping, just because they knew that if they did, they were wasting time they did not have to begin with.

By the end of day, they had arrived back in Alamut, and Tamina immediately went to talk with the other women of the palace while Dastan, Amar, and Seso waiting outside.

"You got a pretty one, Persian," Amar said slowly, stroking his chin as he watched Tamina run inside.

Dastan looked at Amar, not exactly sure how to respond to something like that. "You don't know her," he said after a moment. "She can be hell."

Amar shrugged. "Just remember, Persian that the man is the head of the house, not the woman. You're the one with the sword, you should be in charge," he jabbed Dastan in the chest. "Don't let a little woman tell you what to do. You be your own self, and if she doesn't like it, that's too damn bad." He spit at the ground.

The prince shook his head. "Tamina's not like that."

Even Seso snorted. "Persian, she knows that you love her, and a woman like her can do whatever she wants with that kind of knowledge."

Dastan shrugged. "Like I said, you don't know her." Even if she was going to be like that, and he knew that she wouldn't, he would still love her. She was the one for him, no matter what Amar and Seso thought.

"Whatever you say."

Tamina then came out of the palace, a look of determination settled on her face and a group of women following her. "Our friends in the palace say the Persians have broken through to the first level of the tunnels. They will reach toeh Sandglass within hours. Nizam's keeping the dagger in teh High Temple, guarded by some sort of demon, covered in spikes."

Dastan looked at her. "The Hassansin that killed my brother," he said painfully. That Hassansin wasn't a man. It was a monster who didn't even deserve to be called part of the human race.

Tamina smiled softly. "It's the only thing that stands between us and the dagger. No man can stand withing 20 yards of him and live," she said. Tamina felt like it was over. There was no longer any reason to fight. She knew that Dastan had promised her that they would get the dagger back, but she was doubtful now. Was there no hope?

"Some don't need to get that close," Seso said carefully, looking up at the High Temple in contempt. He glanced back down at Tamina who was looking rather proud now. She turned and walked away, Amar and Seso following after her and Dastan bringing up the lead.

Dastan nodded in resolution as they started to execute their plan. "Go Amar."

Amar walked into a little alclove of shade, lords surrounding him and drinking the water gaily. Seso followed in after him and bowed his head. Amar bent his head over in a bow, pretending to be poor. "Space some water, sire?" he asked in a hoarse voice as if he had not had anything to drink in days.

The man before him spewed a little fountain of water from his mouth, mocking the supposed slave while his friends laughed at the little jest. Amar and Seso both raised their arms, holding shovels. They each smacked two men on the head, knocking them out effectively. Dastan and Tamina walked in after them, Dastan grasping Amar's shoulders in a means of thanks while Tamina ran to the doorway to investigate the area. For good measure, Amar hit the man on the head again, just because he wasn't nice or so to speak. Dastan walked outside of the little alclove, making sure that no one had seen what just happened there.

Amar came up to Seso, consulting him about what they were doing. "You sure about this?" he whispered, having asked the question at least a dozen times by this point. Seso turned around and looked at Dastan for a brief moment. "I owe the boy," he said simply.

"What?" came Amar's reply, surprised and angry. "You're a Ngbaka!" he exclaimed. "Scourge of the Numidian plain. Me? I'm a slightly dishonorable entrepreneur. This nobility business is not the cloth we're cut from!" he said.

"Hurry!" Tamina whispered to Seso.

Seso grabbed Amar's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "My friend, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

Amar nodded his head. "Uh-huh." Seso smiled at him and patted his friend's arm. He walked to Tamina and went inside the palace, his mind already set on where he needed to go. The big black door closed behind him and Tamina walked away and up to Amar who whispered quickly, "Come on."

Seso walked through the halls of the palace, turning every way Tamina had told him to. Finally he came to two large doors, and he pushed them open, the gold from inside the room already sparkling with the effect. Standing in the doorway, Seso pulled two little knives from his belt, turning his head to and fro, searching everywhere for the Hassansin. He knew that the enemy would be hiding, he himself would be too, and he knew that the Hassansin was going to use the element of surprise. He took several deep breaths, calming his heart and mind, officially ready to begin the battle. Before him, he saw the alter, the dagger, perched in its sacred holder, the sun from above beating down on its metal blade. The pillars around were round and ornate, carved in shapes so beautiful; the steps were marble and rounded and the windows beyond wide and tall, taking up the entire wall. Though the view there was amazing, Seso knew that he had not come there to enjoy the scenery; he needed to get the dagger. That was his mission.

His eyes widened in alarm, bending his body backwards to avoid little knives being short at him. None of them even brushed against his flesh. Quickly though, he sat down behind a pillar, his breathing faster now. He heard the Hassansin behind him make another sound, dislodging another weapon, though he quickly heard it hit a wall in defeat.

The Hassansin jumped out of nowhere, making a hiss and shooting more little knives in his direction, though Seso was quick. He threw both knives in succession and dodged to go behind another pillar while his opponent copied his decision. Little knives dug into the wall in front of him, making a line and kicking up a little dust. Seso frowned and took more deep breaths. He came out from behind the pillar and smacked away several more knives being shot at him with a knife of his own, wile throwing it at him afterwards. He watched as it lodged itself into a pillar behind the Hassansin. The opponent reached behind himself and pulled out knives fast, throwing them all at him with deadly accuracy. Seso grunted in pain when he felt on of the little ones collide with his shoulder, but watched as the man hid behind another pillar. Seso went behind one of his own and looked down aat the knife. He reached up and twisted it out of his shoulder, blood tainting the yellow fabric and the poison already beginning to merge into his blood. He threw the knife away, knowing that one little knife wasn't going to be enough to kill him.

The Hassansin stood behind his pillar, the thought of this new challenge quite exciting. Never before had he met one of not his kind who was as talented as he with a knife. Knives were his specialty; that's why he was put in that position; they knew that he would be able to deliver, no matter who was going to be coming through those doors. Being a knife thrower was more beneficial to Nizam than a swordsman. Snives could fly while swords could not.

He pulled out another one of his little knives, staring at its blade. One alone seemed almost harmless, though it was drenched in poison and many of them piercing the skin was painful. His ripped open face knew that better than most. The cut had been so terrifying that even when it healed, it still rendered many people frightened. Silver, pudgy skin exploded from his dark face to heal the that cut, it being put there for a reason. It was terrible to look at, which made the man smile maliciously. He licked the blade, tasting the faint poison on its tip. It wouldn't do anything unless it was projected into the blood stream. He loaded the knife into his arm catapult and waited. He came out from behind his pillar quickly, shooting his right arm's load, then his left's, hoping for a hit. The man needed to die, and he was going to be the one to deliver his death. Even if it meant his own death, he would not fail his leader. He dodged behind his pillar and then looked up when he hear d the sound of metal clanking against metal. He saw a four bladed spiral hurtling towards him though he ducked down, the blades only cutting away some of the knives on his back.

Seso grunted in anger. He was losing strength, and the poison was only getting stronger. He didn't have much time. He threw another knife at him and another, though both failed to meet thier ideal target. He jumped behind a pillar. Somehow he knew, now was his time. He was not going to see Amar or Dastan or Tamina again. He would get them the dagger, but he knew that he was not going to be blessed enough to carry it to them. He would die here. But he would die proudly. And he would not fail. He pulled one last knife outof his belt, a thin rounded one and held it against his chest. He took one last deep breath and looked at the dagger. He was so close! Then, making his decision, he made his way out from behind his pillar, the Hassansin already there and waiting for him. The Hassansin shot more little knives out of his arm contraption, and Seso threw his last knife, making a run to the dagger.

His thrown knife went through all of the little ones thrown at him and pierced deep into the evil flesh of his rival, catching that man by surprise. He looked down at the knife in chest, the blade going deep into his heart. He looked back up at Seso and fell backwards, dead.

Seso ran to the alter and managed inside. He smiled at his victory, knowing that he had succeeded. Amar would be so proud of him right now. But he would not see Amar. He grimaced painfully and looked down at his chest, now covered in the little knives. The additional poison driving deep in his body, staright into the blood being pumped from his heart. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the knife by the blade, already hearing people charging into the room after him, to kill him. They would not need to.

He grabbed onto the door of the alter and pulled himself to his feet. He looked out at one of the windows. He held the knife high above his head, though his body faltered many time in pain, making his arm drop a little lower. Seso grunted one last time and threw himself backwards, throwing the knife out of his hand and outside of the palace. The Ngbaka was gone.

The knife soared through the air, twisting and flipping over and over and over again, finally lodging itself into a tree. Around the tree stood three people, two men and a woman. Amar, Dastan, and Tamina. They all looked at the knife, knowing now that the good man they had all found a friend in, was no longer a member of the living race. He had given his life to save all of the world's, which was the noblest sacrifice of all.

"Have I told you of the Ngbaka?" Amar asked, pained. He tore the knife out of the tree, studying it. His best friend was gone.

Tamina and Dastan glanced at one another, both not knowing exactly how to comfort the Sheikh. "Yes you have," Dastan said softly.

"I hope your brother listens to you, Persian," Amar's voice croaked. He handed Dastan the knife, eager to be rid of the thing that had ruined his life entirely.

Then the two were off, both knowing what they needed to do, leaving Amar to finish with the plan.

* * *

**Okay, so there it is. This scene wasn't really all that fanfic'd just because there were a whole bunch of fight scenes and not a whole lot of Dastan and Tamina scenes to really manipulate. But I still hope that you all liked it. I found it kinda fun. :)**

**I aplogize for the grammatical errors, hopefully there won't be a ton. :)**

**So, read Thanks to an Apple, it's pretty good, and review that one, and review this one too, please. That would make me very very happy. Also, I need to know what you guys want me to do with this story once it's done with the movie part. Should I continue or cut it off here or what? Please tell me soon. We are coming to an end of the movie. :( But then, if I were to continue, it would really be all fanfiction sooo...yeah. **

**Love you all lots!**

**- Books**


	15. The Bond of a Brother

**Hi there, everyone! How is everyone?**

**Well, another chapter passes (after this one anyway) and that brings us yet another dreadful step closer to the fact that this story is coming to its end. Yes, I know, everyone cry a little when you go to bed. ;) So, what am I going to do with myself once this story is done? Simple. I am going to continue this one. I am going to start another story, and it will be a sequel to this one here. I have yet to come up with any plotline for it, so any thoughts that you all may have would be greatly appreciated. I know, I could just leave it off, but it just seems like there is so much more to tell about Dastan and Tamina and it would sadden me greatly if I abandoned such a fruitful opportunity, especially since I already have quite a few followers in this area anyway, you know? **

**Alright, so here we go! **

* * *

"It makes me sad that Seso had to die for us," Dastan said quietly as they walked through a hidden hallway. Tamina stood in front of him, leading the way.

He watched as she nodded though she did not break her stride. "There will be time to grieve for him later. Now, we don't have time, Dastan. Hurry!" she urged, and suddenly, they began walking even faster than they had before.

* * *

Amar ran quickly to the war horse, pulling a hooded cloak over his head. Unsteadily, he mounted the animal, and urged the horse to a simple trot, though he gained speed quickly and moved the horse right into view strategically, making sure to allow Aksh to ride up on his hind legs and whinny loudly. He made a quick movement and turned the horse around, making to dash back into the little alclove that he had come from. Though he knew that the Persians had seen him; he watched as they stopped their own beasts and turn towards him.

The Shiekh urged the horse a little faster, but already there were more horsemen waiting for him just as he turned around. Quickly, he turned the horse around once more, and started the chase, riding with speed through the large masses of people.

Just ahead he saw his exit, and he had been told to try to make it out, just to make the Persians believe that Dastan had escaped. Dastan and Tamina needed time, and time was all that Amar could try to give them.

The gate in front of him closed, and all around him, he heard malicious laughs, eager to kill who they thought was Dastan. He stopped the horse and turned it around several times, looking anywhere for a place to run out of, though there was none. More Persians began flooding through the gate behind him, and within only seconds, they had him completely surrounded.

He felt a sudden ache in his gut, and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, men tearing at his limbs and fastened cloak. Amar smiled once the hood was removed from his head and glared smugly as his captors.

* * *

Tamina and Dastan stood, waiting behind a wall. They needed to wait.

"Tamina?" Dastan asked unsure, a new thought plaguing his mind.

Tamina blinked and turned to look at him, and though she looked like she was giving him attention, he could see that she had her mind on something else - something that worried her from the likes of it. "What?" she responded once she seemed to have regained control over herself once more.

The prince looked away for a moment and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Would you...would you have really..." he started. "Back at the temple...would you have really..." he paused yet again. She looked him over, guessing what he was trying to say.

'Would you have really killed yourself for a knife?' she thought. She didn't know what she would have done. She wanted so desperately for all of the horror of this world to be over once and for all, but the only way that that was going to happen was if she would have sacrificed herself in exchange for the safety of all of humanity. But then, here in this cruel, cruel world, she had found him. She had found Dastan, the Lion of Persia. The one who had destroyed her city and put it in shambles. The one who had supposedly murdered his own father. The one who had done such terrible things.

But he was also the one to show her life. He gave her a chance to be who she really wanted to be, and he made her feel safe. The way that he looked at her made her feel as if she was the only one in his eyes. He made her feel special. Dastan didn't look at the knife. He looked at her, and only her.

He was the one that she had fallen in love with.

And even though she knew that it would be in the entire world's best interest if she simply put the knife in the stone back at the Temple, she knew that there would always be that second in time where she was selfish enough to not have to leave Dastan. She wanted to be at his side. She didn't want everything else. Just him.

Dastan took a deep breath and began asking his question again, trying to rephrase it in the shortest sentence possible. Talking about Tamina's death was something that was incredibly hard for him - he couldn't imagine her dying.

While he continued trying, Tamina's own thoughts wizzed about in her head. She knew what they were planning; she knew all of the risks, and everything that was entailed in their mission. She had even agreed to it all. But now, rethinking everything, and looking at those risks, she felt that selfish part of her take over again, and she wanted to not allow him to go through with it. She just couldn't.

Just when he looked like he had his wits about him at last, a little boy walked into their hiding place, and, somewhat agitated, Dastan bent down to allow him to whisper in his ear. After he had finished talking he ran off, and Dastan stood, his mind forgetting about his question for the Princess, determination the only thing ringing in his mind.

"It's clear," he told her in a whisper, then turned to walk out of the hallway, but Tamina grabbed his arm and looked at him pleadingly.

"Dastan, wait." Their roles had suddenly switched, and now Tamina felt like she was the one to have to choke out the plea, a plea she didn't want to even be forced to make. She wanted him safe, and what they were doing was without a doubt the most dangerous thing they had both ever done. "Dastan," she said, taking a deep breath, mirroring his previous action, and she saw the little smirk he gave her. "Dastan, I don't think..." she paused and walked right up in front of him, his face merely inches from hers. For a moment, she lost her herself in his eyes, feeling that same safety she had felt when she first met him. How things had changed since that first meeting though. "I don't think you should do this," she said quietly, her eyes simply pleading with him to reconsider.

Dastan looked at her for a moment, his eyes gazing at her intently. His gaze dropped to her parted lips for only a moment, then back up to her eyes. "Is that concern I hear?" he asked with a twitch of the corner of his lips.

Tamina blinked. She knew that he wasn't emotional. But she also knew that he was going through his own turmoil, though he did not make it as obvious. "Caution," she said seriously, looking into his eyes and playing along with the game - a game they had played many times before.

"Sprinkled with concern," he said, giving a little chuckle.

"You flatter yourself, Prince," she retorted, though her eyes communicated another story entirely. They watered a little more at the thought of him dying, but she knew that he knew what he was doing. She had to trust him.

He smirked once more, his head leaning in more to meet hers, however it stopped just before their noses touched. "And you used to be a better liar, Princess," he said in mock cheeky tones.

"Perhaps I'm out of practice," she said, though she was silenced almost immediately. His hand came up to her face and cupped her cheek, making her lose her thought. He hand felt so perfect there, against her skin, like her cheek had been carved to fit his hand. She could feel the courseness of his calloused fingers as they tenderly stroked her skin. She could feel the warmth that radiated off of his palm, going straight into her face and into her heart. The hand there calmed and excited her, however now, she didn't know what to feel.

He stared into her eyes, wanting to do nothing but kiss her. But this wasn't the time. "This won't be the last time we'll be together," he told her softly. "Do you trust me, Tamina?" he asked softly, his eyes falling to her lips where they remained.

She nodded surely. There was nothing she was more sure about in her entire life.

He nodded and turned around, running alongside the heated and cracked wall, jumping over the banister in one clean move. He turned back to her, and watched as she bent down low, hiding herself in the bushes, hugging the wall tightly with her small body. He held a hand out to her, one that she gladly took in her own. He pulled up gently, helping her over the banister.

Once over, they both began running, their destination already set in their minds.

* * *

Amar felt hands rest on his shoulders, keeping him in the kneeling position. He stared up at the traitor brother, Nizam with nothing but coldness and hatred buried deep in his dark eyes.

He watched calmly as Nizam pulled back his angered hand and swept it in one clean motion, and before Amar could even blink, pain erupted on his face, drops of blood spewing out of his dry mouth. He turned back to look at Nizam, not allowing himself to be intimidated by the royal, but Nizam's men grasped his shoulders and turned him around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nizam nursing his pained hand, and it took everything in him to not smirk at the monarch's tolerance for pain. So, Amar closed his eyes, holding some tears back behind their lids. It wasn't the pain that caused the tears, it was the sudden impact of Nizam's hand that had sprung them into his eyes.

"Where is the dagger?" Nizam demanded behind him, but it was no use.

"You Persian bureaucrats," he scoffed. "Such soft hands," he mocked. The men jostled his shoulders, and he heard Nizam grunt in anger, probably preparing himself to take another smack at him. But he didn't. He stopped. He opened his eyes and saw a dark, jeweled carriage pull up in front of them. He watched Nizam walk over to it and climb inside.

He could only guess what it was about.

* * *

Tamina and Dastan stood for a brief moment outside of the chamber, looking into it with disdain.

"Here I go," Dastan said quietly and began climbing inside the room.

"Be careful, Dastan," she responded cautiously. He nodded his head and walked to a pillar, hiding behind it. He could be patient.

Without much more delay, Tamina began hearing the clang of instrument of war and the newly crowned King Tus walked into the room. "Leave me," she heard him say, and the guards behind him began moving away from their leader and back to thier posts most likely.

"Hello, Tus," Dastan murmured quietly when Tus finally came into his sight.

Tus stopped and looked at the pillar, seeing his brother. He turned around the hallway that his soldiers were walking from and quickly yelled, "Dastan!" They all stopped and ran back around inside the chamber while Dastan stepped from the pillar and disappeared behind him, holding a knife to his throat.

Tus gulped, feeling the cool blade press into his skin. His own brother! A murderer! He clasped the prayer beads in his hand tightly, even feeling his knuckles turn white.

"We need to talk," he heard Dastan whisper behind him urgently.

"Then talk," he replied harshly.

His brother shrugged a little and continued. "Alone."

Tus blinked, but followed his brother's request anyway. "Wait outside the chamber." His men didn't move; they only held their spears up at his brother behind him, the chain mail from their helmets swaying back and forth from the tension inside the room. "Now!" Tus yelled, and only then did they begin to retreat back into the hall, standing guard outside, though never tearing theri eyes away from their King inside. Tus galred at them and slowly they all turned their heads to the open hallway, waiting outside of the chamber like they had been told to do.

"We are brothers, are we not?" Dastan behind him said almost too kindly, as if his speech had been rehearsed before. The knife moved across Tus's throat and Dastan turned him around, looking at Tus carefully, though not removing the knife from his throat. "The robe that killed Father was poisoned by Nizam," Dastan started, getting the truth out quickly.

Tus panted though looked challengingly into his brother's eyes. "Nizam? You're mad," he scoffed.

"Who gave you the rob, Tus?" he asked. Tus only glared at him. "Who gave you the robe?" he said louder, emphasizing the fact that he held a knife to his brother's throat, making Tus' eyes widen a little and shiver in slight fear. He cast a quick look to the guards outside who were now watching him, but making any advances to get inside the chamber. "You trust him, as did I," Dastan said in a kinder tone. Dastan shook his head a little before continuing. "But Alamut wasn't supplyingour enemies with weapons. Nizam lied to us."

Tus continued to look at his brother doubtfully, though he listened nonetheless. "Why would he do such a thing?" he questioned in low tones. "What could he gain?" he probed once more.

Dastan took a deep breath before continuing. "Listen to me carefully," he told Tus, and Tus just stared at him, agreeing to listen. "Beneath the streets of the city lies an ancient force." Tus blinked. Why would his brother do this to him? Make up stories just to save himself! It was disgraceful! "A container," Dastan continued, obviously not noticing Tus' new distaste for the whole situation. "holding the fabled Sands of Time. Nizam wishes to use it to corrupt history. He wants to turn back time and make himself king."

Tus began chuckling nervously, scoff high in his light snicker. "'Sands of Time'?" he asked dubiously, not buying it for a moment. "Heresies, Dastan. Pagan madness!" he said.

"No," Dastan said quietly, and as Tus continued staring into his eyes, he saw something flicker in the familiar blue orbs: truth. Though everything that Dastan had been saying seemed highly unlikely, something triggered Tus' pity or at least consideration. Was it even possible at all that Dastan was telling the truth? "I've seen its power with my own eyes, Tus," Dastan continued. "And Nizam discovered its resting place. If we don't stop him, our world could end," he finished.

No matter what Tus saw, it was impossible. Something like this could not happen. It just couldn't. "If you're going to kill me," Tus hissed. "best you do it now."

Dastan shook his head sorrowfully, as if now finally worried as to how things would eventually turn out. Dastan tore the knife away from his brother's throat, but did not let go of him. He paused for a moment, and then brought the knife back up to both of thier eyelines. Tus looked down at the dagger, his eyes falling to glinting red ruby at the base of the hilt, the part that Dastan seemed to be displaying to most.

"This is no ordinary dagger," Dastan said surely, and Tus raised his eyebrows at the artifact. "You press the jewel on its hilt and you will see." The prince pulled the knife down a little bit and began shaking his head while staring at the dagger. "I should have had the strengh to do this before we invaded the city," he said lowly, his eyes looking at the tip.

Tus stared at his brother, confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked, almost not wanting to know.

"To act on what I know is right," Dastan finished, looking up at his brother, a silent plea in his eyes. "no matter the consequences." And with that, he raised the dagger above his head and plunged it down, but not into the flesh of Tus, like he had expected, but into Dastan's own heart. His brother grimaced at the pain, but then wobbled backwards knocking over a table that held a glass of red wine. The alcohol splattered across the floor, mimicking the blood that would soon stain the shining tile. Tus grasped the knife's hilt, unable to process what his brother had done. He had killed himself!

Dastan fell to the floor while Tus only continued to stare uneasily. He did not notice Nizam walking in, his hand firmly gripped on the hilt of his sword. "The soldiers remain on..."

"Stay where you are!" Tus yelled loudly, looking at his uncle rudely. Nizam looked down at the floor and his eyebrows raised a little at the spectacle. Tus pulled the dagger from his brother's body, looking at it confusedly and sadly. "He took his own life!" he mourned, now seeing that what his brother had been saying had all been truth. Dastan would not have killed himself after telling him everything.

"Then God have mercy on the traitor, for he chose the path of a coward," Nizam said without emotion, making Tus even more disgusted with himself. How could he not have seen what had been going on earlier? Why could he not have seen?

"We both know Dastan was many things, but not a coward," he told his traitor of an uncle. He raised the knife to his eyes and looked at it, remembering what his brother had been saying. "Press the jewel on its hilt, and you will see," he thought to himself. Gingerly, he pressed the jewel button down, and much to his astonishment, something did indeed happen.

He pulled away from his body and watch shocked at his uncles retreated back the way he came from and the glass of win refill itself, and table stand upright once more. But even more, he saw his brother rise to his feet again and he watched as he pulled the knife out of his chest, looking down at it. Everything had rewound, and now with sudden force, he was pulled back into his body, and everything was living once more. His brother had not yet killed himself!

"no matter the consequences," his brother was saying, and Tus recognized the line well. Dastan raised the dagger above his head and made ready to plunge it back into his heart, but Tus' arms reached out and held them firm.

"Stop!" he said terrified. Dastan looked at him confusedly for a moment, and he knew that his own eyes mirrored that confusion quite well. "A moment ago you died before my eyes."

Dastan released his grip on the hilt of the dagger a little and scrutinized it, then sighed in relief, grasping his brother's shoulder in thanks. "Oh, you pressed it," he said gratefully.

Tus smiled a little, looking at his brother. "How did you know that I would?" he questioned, his tone lighter and kinder than it had been.

Dastan smiled grandly up at him. "Because we are brothers."

Tus sighed a little and looked up at his brother, reaching his arm out and resting his hand on his shoulder, his prayer beads jingling a little with the movement. "On the day we left for way, our father told me a true king considers the advice of counsel, but always listens to his own heart. You shouldn't have had to go so far for me to believe you."

Before anything more could be said at all, another voice entered the room, and Dastan froze. It was Nizam.

"Your Majesty, the soldiers tell me that..." Tus turned his head and the brothers both watched at Nizam paused, shocked in the middle on the room, looking at them both, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. "I see that Dastan has indeed returned."

"Tus, remember what I told you!" Dastan yelled, but it was too late. Nizam's arm swept out, sword in hand, and the sharp blade striked against the young king's neck, slicing it open where it began to bleed profusely. Tus reached up to grasp his neck, but before much more could be done, he fell to the ground.

Dastan turned and was a second too late to see a Hassansin step out of his dark spot in the room, clanking him on the head with his double-headed axe. The Hassansin pressed the top of the axe into Dsatan's chest, fully ready to plunge it into his heart, but Nizam surprisingly stopped him. "No! A moment," he called, looking over Tus' limp form. "Poor Tuss. So eager for the crown." Nizam them turned around facing Dastan with an angry sneer on his old face. "An you, Dastan, always charging in." He moved his hand in the a sideways motion to add further emphasis on his anger. "So desperate to prove," he continued. Dastan stretched for the dagger laying on the ground beside him, but the axe came down, surrounding his wrist and unwilling him to reach any further. Nizam bent down beside Dastan, taking the knife away from Dastan reach completely, while Dastan grunted in anger. "to prove you're more than something the King scraped off the streets. What a glorious mess we are," he mused. standing up now. "It seems the bond between brothers is no longer the sword tha defends our empire." He held up the dagger as proof then began watlking away. "Yes!" he yelled and the Hassansin raised the axe to kill Dastan once and for all.

Tamina could not stand the torture she was being put through, and pushed the curtains aside, a sword Dastan had given her in her hand. She yelled in anger, catching the Hassansin's attention, making him turn to her and began charging up the steps to kill her. Dastan sat up rapidly and threw a knife with such force that it whished as it glided through the air. It lodged itself into the Hassansin's back and the enemy yelped in pain, then turned back to Dastan, swinging his arm but Dastan ducked perfectly and jutted another sword into the man's front, watching as he fell to the ground, dead.

But he turned back to the room, running to Tus' side with the sword still in his hand. He checked for a pulse, and when he felt none, he gently washed his palm over his brother's eyes, closing them. Too many people in his family did he have to bury. It was not fair.

Tamina knelt down beside the dead Hassansin and spread his hand open, a familiar insignia catching her eyes. On his left palm, there was a sun - a sun just like the one she had had on her own hand only a few days ago. It was a the sun of the guardians. "He was one of us!" he proclaimed to Dastan. "He was a preist of the Temple." She stood and ran over the Dastan, crouching down beside him. "That how Nizam discovered the existence of the Sanglass!" Dastan tore Tus' prayer beads from his hands, stowing them away in his garments to keep them safe, or at least to keep a piece of his brother with him. "They've corrupted the Guardians," she continued. "Infected us. We are no longer pure. We must hurry!" he urged, and they both stood, a renewed sense of duty to the earth kindled in both of their minds.

* * *

**Holy crap! That was a really LONG chapter! Well, I hope you guys liked it. I'm surprised that I only got this far, to be honest. I thought that I would have gotten to the kiss at least. Huh. I guess that will be next chapter then huh?**

**Kay, so this chapter, I am a little subconscious about this chapter. I know it isn't the best that I have ever written, but I'd like to know that this isn't the worst that I could do...Please review and tell me how I did...I'm worried. **

**All righty then, so thank you all very much and be sure to leave a nice little review on the way out, along with some ideas as to the sequel. :)**

**Oh, and also, I am not proofing this chapter of any little errors, just because I am a little tired of writing at the moment, so I hope that there aren't that many errors. If there are...you don't really need to tell me about those...I know...Next chapter, I promise to proof-read. But for the record, I think that I am a pretty good typer, so there shouldn't be that many. :)**

**Love you all lots! - Books**


	16. The Underground Passageways

**And another chapter! This is starting to get sad every time that I update, just cause now...now we are approaching the end of this movie, and all of that stuff. Cry face! But oh well, we are going to have a sequel to this thing, and let me reiterate that I am still happily taking ideas for it. Nothing is really set in stone yet, so if you guys have any preference, just let me know. :)**

**And here we are! Please review!**

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Dastan stood with Tamina, and they began running discreetly around the palace, jumping behind walls and pillars and going through difficultly designed networks of hallways. Obviously, Dastan mused, there was another way to get to the Sandglass, and the halls in the palace had been so intricately thought out that there was very little possibility that anyone would happen to come across it. The prince had no idea where he was going, and truth be told, he was quite surprised that Tamina seemed to know what she was doing.

"Faster, Dastan," Tamina whispered carefully as they disappeared behind a pillar. Dastan obediantly began walking faster, and even though his stride should have been longer than hers, she was almost easily outrunning him. "Grab a torch," she said as they continued running. She gestured to one of the torches that decorated one of the walls of the hall they were treading through, and again Dastan reached out and quickly pulled it out of its holder.

Eventually though, they slowed their fast pace and came to a dead end in the hallway, and Dastan began wondering if she had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

"Where are we?" he whispered.

"Shh," she hissed at him impatiently and walked to one of the statues standing beside the hall. "Give me the torch," she whispered, "And push that statue out of the way."

Dastan skeptically walked to the statue and began shoving it, though it was made out of solid gold which made it rather difficult to move, but after a whole minute of huffing and struggling, a small door appeared from behind the statue.

Tamina smiled and passed the torch back to him and walked to the little door, brushing aside groups of dust around the large bricks. Her fingers deftly moved across the surface of the brick with confidence, as if her fingers were on a map that she had used countless of times. The little door shook briefly, and without any sense of fear,Tamina bravely pushed the door wide open and walked through, bending over a little to fit. Dastan followed her nervously and turned back around, closing the miniscule door.

As the young Persian turned around to follow the Princess, his eyes were accosted with the most beautiful monuments. Normal, wide stairs led all the way down to another passage, while pillars all decorated ornately, depicting the story of the dagger stood majestically in corners. The ceiling consisted of beautiful swirls of nothing but the purest of marble and other carefully drawn out carvings. If Dastan had been given the opportunity to study the beauty of the underground world of Alamut, he most certainly would have, but now, there was no time.

The young man blinked with determination. He would not let his own uncle do such wretched things. Nizam had killed everyone without even the slightest bit of hesitation. The man was cruel and cold-hearted. The bastard should never have been loved in the first place. That man deserved to die alone, and not only that, but to die a slow and drawn out death. Nizam deserved nothing but hell itself.

"The Guardians built passageways underneath the city," Tamina said softly as she ran down the stairs, tearing him from his thoughts, and Dastan following her carefully. "as secret access to the Sandglass." Dastan turned around, the feeling of the room suddenly feeling confined and foreboding. His paranoia was getting the best of him, and he knew it. He kept expecting someone to burst through the little door that he and Tamina had come through, killing them with ease and by surprise. But Tamina, would not allow him to be distracted. "Dastan, only the Princess knows how to get in here; all of the others simply know of its existence, and even fewer still know where it is. No one will find us down here, Dastan," she soothed. "If we move fast enough, we can get there before Nizam." Dastan was still unsure, but nevertheless, he trusted Tamina and walked to her side, looking around warily, ready to defend them both at a moment's notice.

Tamina walked before the blue-green statue, her eyes leveling out at the level of the statue's breasts, but she paid no heed. She took a deep breath, and plunged her hand slowly into the crevice in the wall, her tiny fingers meeting sticky, thick cobwebs, making her squeeze her eyes shut in disgust. Though she continued skimming her fingers over the surface of the wall, her index finger finding a small box which she carefully pushed.

A deep rumbling sounded from another segment of the room, and rapidly, Tamina withdrew her hand and turned around to look at the chamber expand. Dastan stood petrified for a moment, though he regained his composure quickly, even when the wind from the hidden chamber blew the torch out effortlessly. They both glanced down at the torch, and then Tamina began trekking through the new tunnel.

As Dastan entered the next chamber, he was in even more awe of the craftsmenship. If was a cylindrical room, the walls going up in steps as they extended thenmselves up to the ceiling. Up above them, the sun's less harsh rays beat down into the room, illuminating it spendidly, the light bouncing off of one wall and to another until it reached the bottom of the room, which was even more dazzling and spectacular. In the very center of the room, a soft dust whisked through the course of it, the sun giving the dust light. Through the thick dust, there was a grouping of boulders, all stacked specifically and importantly. Around them was a field of sand, though it looked as if the sand there had only been a covering for something else there, something that was designed as a path. Tamina excitedly pointed to the mass of boulders in the distance, exclaiming hurriedly, "That will lead us down to the Sandglass chamber." Dastan pulled off his hood and began walking to the boulders.

Tamina scoffed a little and quickly grabbed his arm, holding him back. "There is only one safe path," she said, taking the lead once more.

"I should have known," he teased, though they both knew that now especially was not the time for teasing.

The princess gave him a look over her shoulder in annoyance. She bent down over the sand, her hand outstretched; she brushed away the sand there, and confirming Dastan's suspicions, revealed a stepping stone of sorts. Tamina sighed and stood up once more, carefully pressing her foot down onto the stone. The stone below her nimble shoe dropped, releasing a pocket of air. And as such, around the room, several more bursts of air poofed into being as they brandished the correct path.

She turned around to him quickly and urgently. "Follow in my footsteps." He nodded and began stepping down the little stairs to meet her. They slowly started walking across the field, following what appeared to be a bridge. They both were looking down at the ground, evaluating every step they took. "Nothing can touch the surface other than where I step," Tamina whispered.

From above, there was a deep, earth shaking rumble, stirring the path that the two monarchs were on, and though for a moment, they fought desperately for their balance, they quickly regained it. Though the ceiling did not appear to be as fortunate. A large piece of rock dropped from the ceiling with a parting crack as its farewell and began plummeting down to the ground below it.

Dastan looked up and saw the rock and leaned out to his right, holding his hand out, catching the piece of the room, his raised left foot wavering unsurely behind him. However, Dastan had good balance and impeccable reflexes, and soon he righted himself on the right path and looked at Tamina who had now turned to him. He smiled at his deed as did she. However, another smaller piece followed the larger one and landed on it in Dastan's hand, bouncing off of the dirty stone.

It fell into the sand below then, making them both gasp in alarm and in fright. Dastan's mouth was agape, and worry overtook his entire being. The sand around the small little rock began sinking rapidly, pulling all of the surrounding sand with it into a deep, deep pit that never seemed to end. Dastan only stood there, watching the sand sink, feeling more and more worried with each passing second.

"Run, Dastan!" Tamina said hurriedly, shocked that he was still there. "Run!" she yelled again, beckoning for him to run. Without waiting, she turned on her heel and began running for the center of the room, her feet staying constricted to the path that was designed for the trek, while Dastan only stayed there, shock overtaking him.

More and more sand began to dip down into the impossible hole, and the bridge that had been supporting Dastan began collapsing, cracks and more rumbles making themselves painfully known to the astounded prince. The bridge crumbled as if it too, had been crafted out of sand, and Dastan's normally balanced feet, were swept out from underneath him, making him land on the sliding stone with his back. Dastan grunted at the pain, but it only got worse. The stone that Dastan clung to began surfing through the sinking sand, going through a number of other pathways that had not yet fallen to their deaths.

From a distance, he heard Tamina call his name loudly. She sounded absolutely terrified, and it killed Dastan that he was not there to soothe her worries, but now, he only hoped that he would get a chance to. There was a very good chance that he could die in this catastrophy.

He knew that he had to make a move fast before everything fell on him. He stood on his part of bridge and jumped off, going under a breaking archway. He landed in the sand, his legs burning in protest at the impact, and he continued sliding on his own now through the sand, being sucked under another archway with the rest of the sand. As the mass of sand hit the archway behind him, he heard the cracks and shatters, and he turned his head around, only to see that the massive archway was indeed going to come down on top of him. "Whoa!" he screamed in fear and began propelling himself through the sand, as if trying to get away from the toppling object.

In front of him, he saw a tunnel, one that was not moving and was connected to the wall. He had to get there. The archway behind him continued falling and once it made its dreaded impact, Dastan was thrown into the air briefly, and when he landed, he ran across the sand, jumping off of something below his feet. He tumbled through the still moving sand, rolling painfully. He reached out, for anything really, and for moments, he was grasping at nothing but hopeless air. But then, his hand met heated rock, and he clung to it for dear life, hugging its heated form while sand fell over the edge in a sandfall. Rocks shoved themselves up against Dastan's ledge, shoving it closer to the edge, and Dastan only held the object tighter. More rocks and sand tumbled around him, falling into the pit, but Dastan continued to hold firm.

Finally, he felt firm, and took a sigh of relief, his eyes closing in happiness that he was in control.

But the gods must have decided that they were not done just yet, as another rumble sounded through the hall, and Dastan's eyes burst wide open, and he felt his ledge begin to drop into the pit. Quickly he raised himself up onto the falling ledge and began running backwards, but stopped quickly, once he realized his way out of the fun house. He turned around and now saw that the still firm tunnel was getting closer to him. He had a shot. The ledge broke free and began falling into the pit, but Dastan knew what he was doing. He jumped off of the falling ledge backwards, flipping through the air. Gods, please work, he thought to himself.

Pain shot up through his feet once he felt firm ground under his feet again. He reached out and grasped the frames of the hallway, steadying himself. He stood and smiled triumphantly at his success, and turned and ran through the hall, unaware of the trap door feet ahead of him. His feet fell through, and needless to say, he yelled in surprised all the wall down the shaft, landing suddenly, his feet growing even more impatient and pained with the new landing.

He looked around him now, trying his best to ignore that pain that was shooting up his legs and took several deep breaths before continuing.

Dastan looked around him and saw at the end of the new chamber a long, thick twirled piece of glass. Inside of the glass was a firey color, and the prince could even see it sloshing around dangerously inside. It mirrored the look of inside the dagger, Dastan noted, right where all of the sand was. This was the Sandglass.

Everything else in comparison was rather dull, a spotted number of archways leading to the Sandglass were about the only things that cared to decorate the already finely established room. However now, Dastan did not have any time whatsoever to admire the chamber around him. He needed to find Tamina.

He looked around him anxiously, trying to spot her anywhere he could, when all of a sudden, the lead Hassansin grunted and appeared out from behind a pillar striking with his sword. His icy blue eyes glared menacingly at Dastan who jumped in surprise and blocked with his now drawn sword. The Hassansin tried again, though this time Dastan ducked skillfully and striked with his own blade, moving it in a powerful sweep and circle. Once more he ducked away from the Hassansin's blade, and the prince striked hard enough the his blade swept all the way around Dastan's body, lodging itself into the pillar next to the them.

Tha Hassansin jumped backwards, going onto another landing, while Dastan bellowed angrily and jumped down after him. He would not let this man get away. Not with everything that he had done to his family. His feet walked along the grooves in the wall and landed just before the Hassansin, whose back was up against the wall. Dastan blocked the accurately aimed weapon and strike downward with his own, being blocked. Dastan backed away slightly, trying to come at him once more, being blocked every time. Twice more, Dastan striked downwards, and still every time, he was effortlessly blocked.

The Hassansin twirled his powerful blade in his hand, trying to get a hit in on Dastan's head, though Dastan tried his best to refuse, he did not succeed. Dastan was smacked against the wall, and was discombobulated for a moment, but that was all that the Hassansin needed. He pressed Dastan further into the hard wall, grabbing one of the prince's strong wrists, willing it immobile, while the other came down hard with a knife poised in his hand striking to Dastan's heart.

Dastan reached out quickly and grabbed his wrist, pushing the knife away from his body, their arms now shaking with the amount of tension that was being put into both. Dastan looked into the Hassansin's eyes, trying to see if there was any mercy buried somewhere in the cold orbs - there was none. The prince pleaded with his eyes, but the Hassansin merely smirked smugly and cocked his head to the side devilishly.

From the sleeve of the man's dark robes, one of the snakes peeked its diamond shaped head out, its blackened tongue spitting out at Dastan who had now turned his full attention to the reptile protuding the Hassansin's sleeve. The snake looked long and hard at Dastan, studying its prey. Out of the corner of Dastan's eye, however, he saw her. Tamina, and she looked furious. Dastan looked back at the snake, and watched as she ran up corageously to the grappled group, taking the snake's neck in her fist, and turning its scaly head to his master's mangled face. She pushed the fanged mouth of the snake into the Hassansin's face, dragging the snake's mouth down the length of his cheek excrutiatingly. The Hassansin lost focus on the knife in his hands, which was all that Dastan needed. He took the wrist of his opponent and ran the knife into the chest of the Hassansin, making him yell out loudly.

Tamina took the snake in her hand and threw him over the ledge and turned her attention back to Dastan who was holding the knife in the chest of his adversary. The blue eyes turned colder if possible and more distant, death approaching them quickly.

The prince pushed him backwards, making ready to push him over the ledge. The Hassansin reached out half-heartedly, (strength already abandoning the cold warrior) and grabbed onto Dastan's throat, though he shrugged him off effortlessly, and pushed him down into the pit, both monrachs standing there watching the fall.

The Hassansin screamed lowly, though when his body collided with a boulder, he was silenced and all that could be heard of him was a faint thud when his sinful body hit the floor.

Tamina hurriedly turned back to Dastan, examining him. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, trying to pinpoint any scars on his handsome face. As far as she could tell, there were none.

He nodded tiredly, his body worn of everything that it was forced to do. But it was not over. "Are you?" he panted, slowly beginning to regain control over his breathing.

She nodded quickly and reached up to touch his cheek. "I was so worried about you," she confessed shyly, a small blush tinting her dark cheeks.

Dastan looked her in the eye, no longer willing to deny his wishes anymore. His gaze dropped to her fully, parted lips, and selfishly he pressed his lips to her eager ones, closing his eyes.

Tamina gave a little moan when his soft lips caressed hers gently and tenderly, and her hand tightened around his face and buried itself in his hair, pulling him as close to her as she could manage. He wrapped his own arm securely around her fragile waist, never breaking the kiss - a kiss they had waited for so long. His other hand raised itself up to cup her cheek, his thumbs slowly tracing the outline of her perfect face.

When they pulled away, they both smiled sheepishly at the other, and heard the Sandglass which shook in its fury of being ignored by the new lovers, but still they paid no heed. They looked deeply at the other, both simply mesmerized by what they saw in their eyes.

Dastan cleared his throat softly, and said with the softest of voices, "I love you." Tamina's eyes widened in alarm when he said that, and she even recoiled in fear. She had never been in love before, and hearing that Dastan also loved her scared her a little. She didn't know what to do. The reaction she gave quickly confused and scared Dastan, as he began trying to act like he had never said what he had, but surely, she raised her hand to cover his lips, interrupting him before he even began talking, her mind made up. She would love him no matter what.

"I think I love you back," she whispered hoarsely, and his grin was so wide, it looked like his face was going to split with pure and ecstatic joy. He leaned down into her again and kissed her once more, this time with more passion and happiness, revealing his love for her in that kiss. Eagerly she communicated her own love back to him, and he was more than happy when he read it loud and clear through her silk lips. He loved her.

And she loved him.

They turned back to the Sandglass now, ready to do whatever it was that needed to be done. She grabbed his hand firmly and gave it a soft squeeze of reassurance, one to which he gladly returned, and they began making their way down to the Sandglass that was waiting impatiently in the center of the chamber.

Dastan let go of her hand and charged down the large rocks, meeting the tyrant, Nizam as he came out of his little cart. "Nizam!" he yelled, pulling out his sword. He ran to the Sandglass, standing in front of it protectively and blocking Nizam's way up to the Sandglass. Nizam held his own sword out, his hands held out and ready for anything while Dastan merely stood there, unmoving and glaring at the man that he had once called family. This man would never be family.

"You murdered your own family," Dastan said weakly, his voice catching in his throat, though that did not stop the determined prince from saying it. "Sharaman was you brother!" he exclaimed. Honestly, he could not imagine for the life of him, how anyone could do such a thing to their own family, just for a political gain. There were times when he envied Tus and Garsiv, but never, never would he think of killing them to get what he wanted. He loved his brothers. He grew up with his brothers.

Nizam looked calmly up at Dastan, shrugging indifferently. "And my curse," he commented lightly.

Dastan mouth seethe,d and he yelled in rage as he jumped down to meet Nizam. Never would anyone talk about his father that way, not about the man who had given him a home.

Easily, Dastan disarmed his former uncle and pressed his back up against a rock, holding his blade to his throat and keeping his hand there as well to keep him there. "I looked up to you," Dastan said angrily, the betrayal stinging his heart just like it had when he had fist found out.

But no matter the words that Dastan had to say, Nizam did not care. Dastan suddenly felt an excruciating pain in his arm, and yelled in astonishment. Nizam pushed Dastan away and over the cliff though Dastan held firm, even though the fresh wound in his arm was pleading with him to let go.

"Dastan!" Tamina screamed, terrified. He could not die. No. Not now.

"I never understood why my brother brought trash into the palace," Nizan said, paying no mind to the distressed princess. "Enjoy the gutter, Dastan. It's where you'll stay under my reign," he said joyously. Dastan froze. The gutter? He would have to live in the gutter like he had before. No family. No love.

Suddenly envigorated by what would happen, though he knew that it never would, he pulled himself back up, grunting in pain as his arm protested.

Though there was another rumble, and another imposing rock fell from the ceiling, breaking one of the others down and knocking Nizam down as well, leaving them both now to cling to the remaining rock there.

"Tamina!" Dastan yelled to her, begging for her help.

Tamina grunted as she stood herself up weakly, praying that Dastan would be able to hold on just a little while longer. She rushed over to where they both were and saw her beloved Dastan's arm, cut and red, a pained look etched on his fair face. It made her want to kill Nizam for what he had done.

"Nizam!" Dastan shrieked as Nizam started making his way back up the rocks once the avalanche had subsided. "Don't use the dagger to undo your past!" he urged, though he knew that Nizam would not listen. "It will unleash-"

"Unleash what?" Nizam turned back to Dastan who started making his own way back up the rocks. "God's wrath? Hell itself?" he mocked. Nizam threw his leg out and kicked Dastan square in the face, making him fall back to where he was.

Nizam turned to the Sandglass, but then the pretty little Princess Tamina just had to get in his way.

"Don't do this," she pleaded helplessly, and useless too, he thought. He reached out and grabbed her face with both hands, and Tamina froze.

His hands were hard and scratchy, making her skin crawl. There was nothing that she could do.

Dastan saw Nizam touch Tamina, and his raged increased all the more, and he climbed back up, grabbing onto Nizam's shoe and shaking it, trying to get enough leverage to throw the tyrant over, but alas, he was not strong enough.

Nizam looked down at his shaken foot then back up at Tamina, whose eyes widened in fear. She began shaking her head in a plead, though he would not listen. He still held the princess by the face, and with one clean move, he threw he over.

Dastan's whole world seemed to end right then. He let go of Nizam's shoe immediately and reached out, catching Tamina's arm. Dastan screamed loudly at the pain that his arm was now enduring, holding her.

The world stilled for the two of them, as both came to the realization of what neeed to happen, though Dastan refused to believe it.

"Stop him," Tamina said weakly, her eyes forming tears. She was going to die. Dastan looked down at her, begging with his eyes not to make him do what she wanted him to. He had already lost all of his other family. He could not lose her. He would not lose her. "If the Glass shatters, then the world dies with it." Dastan continued looking down at her, forgetting the pain in his arm. "It's not my destiny, it's yours," she said carefully, shaking her head vigourously. "It always has been. Let me go," she enunciated.

"I won't," he said simply, shaking his head and tears forming into his own eyes.

"Let me go," she said once more. He was making this so hard for her. She didn't want to die. She loved him.

"I'm not letting you go!" Dastan yelled. "Don't make me lose you, Tamina!"

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**MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I know, I am such a horrible person, am I not? I am so sorry guys, but you are going to have to wait another week to see how things end...I have figured it out at last, I think. **

**However, if you guys want a chapter sooner...well...maybe about ten reviews for this chapter...and maybe we will get a sooner update...Tee hee...I love the power of bribery...**

**Alright guys, until next chapter!**

**Love you all lots!**

** - Books**

**PS: I actually did proof-read this chapter, so yay me!**


	17. Cleaning the Family Tree at Last

**Wow! Holy crap, you guys! I have never felt so loved! This is incredible! I ask for ten, and I get 13! And I only posted a couple days ago! I love you all sooooooo much! I can't even begin to describe my love for you guys. And I don't love easily, so feel honored. And yes, holding true to my word, I am updating early! On a Wednesday! Isn't that exciting?**

**Now, there are some little things that need to be talked about before we get to the real meat and potatoes, (the story itself) One: Eldanar, this chapter is for you so that you can read it. I know the feeling of being deprived of fanfiction for a while, and it is indeed a terrible feeling, so I hope that this is a nice little parting gift for the mean time. :)**

_**AND I STILL AM TAKING IDEAS FOR THE NEW STORY. I THINK THAT I HAVE SETTLED ON ONE, BUT I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW IDEAS, SO IF YOU WANNA SEE YOUR IDEA CREDITED ON HERE AND EXPANDED, REVIEW AND TELL ME ABOUT IT! I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM ALL OF YOU! :)**_

**And wow, alright, so here we go! I hope you all love it! :)**

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Tamina stared up at him, her eyes watering and little tears dripping out of her doe-like eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dastan. I wish...I wish we could have been together." Suddenly, the grip on Dastan's hand was loosened, and as he looked down at that scared, beautiful woman, she had let go. She knew what needed to be done, and she was willing to sacrifice herself to make sure that the world lived. Dastan finally had his answer. There would never be anything to keep her from protecting the dagger, even if it was him.

"No," Dastan pleaded. "Tamina, hold onto my arm! Don't you dare let go! Hold on, Tamina! Please!" he screamed, all of his thoughts about his uncle gone like wisps in an unfriendly wind.

Tamina gave him one last sad smile, her last words nothing but a faint whisper over the rumbling rock and tension. "I love you."

"No! No, no, no! Tamina! No!" he screamed, looking down at her as he finally lost his grip on her thin wrist. He watched painfully as she fell, her blessed hand still reaching out to grab hold of his fast disappearing one.

He could hear her crying, screaming. She was terrified. And she had every right to be. Every second of her screaming was like a lifetime alone for him, and in those last seconds of her short life, all of his wonerful memories with the young woman he had fallen for flooded over him like a waterfall finally breaching through a well-built dam.

He saw her smile, her full, radiant smile that, all by itself, made the sun looking like nothing more than a candle.

He was reminded of her laugh - a laugh he had only heard once - oh, but what a laugh it was! The purest of bells jingling sweetly with no tinge of a spoiled note.

He could easily recall the looks of scorn that she had given him, her almond shaped eyes turning into slits of fury or annoyance.

He could still hear her mercilessly angruing with him, proving that her point, whatever it was, was right without a shadow of a doubt. She was always right - or at least that's what she thought of herself.

Towards the end of their relationship, when their love had brilliantly blossomed into the tinest of flowers from the most unlikely of buds, he could hear her sweet teasing, just little words floating around his ears like music.

And now, it was all gone. The conniving world of his tyranical uncle stepped into their love-nest and pulled them apart, now more literally than ever thought possible.

Her screams: dead. Her heart: dead. Dastan's first and only love: dead, as if it hadn't never once been.

Envigorated by the fury of her death, he turned back to the stone, eyeing Nizam as he simply was looking on the heartbreaking scene with nothing more than mere interest. It was nothing but a game for him.

The prince hauled himself back onto the ledge of the rock, Nizam finally prooving his dominance by waiting until Dastan was almost at the top to plunge the dagger deep into the Sandglass. "No!" Dastan screamed at Nizam, knowing that it would do no such good, but he had to scream it. He just had to.

The Glass glowed a bright orange for a moment, the gods recognizing the entrance of their own device.

Dastan jumped onto the back of his uncle, wrestling for dagger which was firmly lodged in the Sandglass. Nizam grunted and squirmed, pushing Dastan every which way to keep him from ruining his plan. Nizam had waited too long for this.

The tyrant gutted Dastan with his elbow, making the prince grunt in pain and fall back and away from the dagger. But Dastan would not back away. He had to do this. For his father. For Tus. For Garsiv. And especially for Tamina. Dastan reached up and bumped the button, sand now "flowing through endlessly" just like Tamina had described.

The sand was like fire, nothing like sand at all; it swirled around the cavern, twisting and turning like a snake and still glowing like a forge. The sand took no notice in whatever was in its way; it simply collided with anything standing, whether it be a long supporting boulder, or just the Sandglass encasement.

Nizam, eager to finally be rid of the little street-rat, reached out with his right arm and buried his hand deep in the wound that he had created, making Dastan scream in pain, though he quickly rataliated.

Dastan paid no heed to the pain and reached out and grabbed the face or his uncle, roaring out in anger and pushing his uncle's face away, making him moan slightly at the new pained position of his old neck.

Hurriedly though, the glass of the Sandglass began cracking, little chips of the ancient, godly glass breaking apart and splitting in intricate patterns like branches on a winter tree.

"Dastan!" he heard, and immediately, he looked around, anxious to see Tamina, wherever she was. It wasn't until he looked in the glass itself did he realize that he was seeing images of his recent past. Tamina standing there in the glass, falling like she had only a few moments ago.

He heard himself scream for her, seeing himself look over his shoulder at her in a casual way when they had just started learning of thier attraction for one another.

The encasement around the Sandglass began to crack even more, bursts of the archaic rock being blasted away meaninglessly. The heart of the Sandglass continued to glow brighter than ever, and the whirlwind of sand around them only got faster. This was it. This is must the end. He had failed his family.

The battle though, was not yet over, that was certain for both of the monarchs. The force of the Sandglass momentarily unsteadied Nizam's balance, blasting him backwards and pressing his back up against the firey glass with his hand never releasing the stained hilt. Dastan coninuted holding the dagger firm, gaining more control over it once his uncle needed to regain his balance, though that did not take long. Nizam was back in front of the dagger within milliseconds, holding it even tighter now than he had been before.

The sand began spinning faster and faster in the chamber, and the Sandglass was now quickly going through Dastan's memories: Tamina's face appearing as she glared at him in their first meeting, though this Tamina's eyes met with Dastan's who looked curiously up at her. She seemed to be real. She looked down at him, and suddenly, her golden eyes widened in alarm, and the mirage of her was gone.

There was a faint click; it could barely be heard over the noise, but Dastan heard it. He looked now at the dagger and was absolutely astounded when he saw the jewel button proudly back in its place on the tip of the hilt. The sand around them had continued whirling, but now, it was only a mindless whirling, no longer controlled by the heart of the Sandglass. It had all gone back into the Sandglass, which now was repeating the shattering effect, only backwards now, the long, demented cracks back-tracking along the smooth glassy finish, disappearing entirely.

More images came to appear in front of Dastan, however none more had the face of Tamina. He couldn't hear her high pitched voice. He didn't see her there. However, he saw his father, stand up from the floor he had died on, grunting a little as the time reversed. He saw his father wrestling with the robe he had been given, but more images came. He saw his father as he had when they had met privately. His father was holding the apple, looking deeply into the eyes of the Dastan that was inside the glass, saying over and over again: "Family."

Both Nizam and Dastan were screaming now, utter confusion sweeping into both of their souls, and even the slightest bit of terror beginning to creep inside. Dastan pushed aside Nizam at last and pulled the dagger out of the glass.

Their bodies soon were being tossed about with the remaining sand, twisting in and out with the sand and finally out of the chamber.

Dastan looked behind them and saw the Sandglass pop extravagently, the sand around it now slowing and beginning to encircle the Sandglass.

* * *

The Princess of Alamut opened her eyes, as if only from a blink had she come. She looked around her, seeing the Guardians around her praying before the altar. Her own arms had been extended around her in a means of prayer.

"Stop," she whispered hoarsely, looking around more frantically this time. The priests stopped their praying and looked at her curiously, some even angrily. It was not swell to interrupt prayer. But she did not care. Something seemed...off...as if this world around her was a dream, and the world behind her closed eyes was the true one.

Tamina looked up at the alatar, still confused as to what she was exactly seeing. The dagger was gone, only the sun's dusty light sifting through the gaps of the small altar room.

She closed her eyes, wanting to back to whatever world she came from, where everything seemed to make sense. She saw a man, handsome he was definitely, his eyes a clear undying blue and his rugged dark chocolate hair barely touching his broad shoulders. She saw a smile from this man. His name was Dastan.

The Princess fled the room for a moment, needing to regather her wits about her. She recalled all of the people that she had ever encountered, and none of them had the name of Dastan, but she knew Dastan.

She paced about the hallway, rubbing her aching temples and leaving her eyes closed. She saw another man, bald and dark, trying to kill Dastan. Nizam.

Had she used the dagger? How could she remember it if she hadn't? Tamina could not recall ever pressing the jewel button, yet she remembered everything else. All of it. She saw Dastan smile at her which filled her stomach with butterflies that never ceased their fluid flights. She saw the deaths of Tus and Garsiv, Dastan's brothers who had proved themselves in the end. She saw the death of the King, seeing his skin crackle and darken, leaving him a broiled human lying on the marble floor.

The Princess suddenly opened her eyes, her fingers touching her lips. She had kissed Dastan. Even now, in this apparent alternate world, she could feel the faint tingles on her full lips.

She didn't press the jewel. She knew that was for certain. Then how could she remember? Who _did _press the button? Was it Dastan? Would he remember the time that they had shared together in that alternate life? What if he didn't? What would become of her? She recalled Tus asking for her hand in marriage, but she did not wish to marry him! She loved Dastan!

Tamina needed to find Dastan.

"Princess?" a old raspy voice whsipered behind her, resting an encouraging hand on her weak and worried shoulder.

"Excuse me," she said without even looking at him. She walked away and out of the palace, beginning her search for the prince who had capitvated her heart.

* * *

Dastan looked down at the dagger in his hand, recognizing its shape and everything about it. He held it by the blade and was staring at it intently. He remembered this.

Anxiously now, he began looking around him, lowering the dagger to his side. He was wearing armor, the same armor he had worn when invading Alamut. Soldiers of Alamut were running amuck, but soon being sheperded by Persian soldiers who brandished their weapons every time they heard or saw an Alamutian act out of line.

He was back in the invasion!

"Prince Dastan!" he heard and turned presumptuously to the caller. Shockingly, he saw the wild mass of curly hair and dark skin. It was Bis.

"Bis!" Dastan exclaimed, reaching out and touching his comrade's shoulder. "You're here!" he again exclaimed, completely struck by the fact that he had not lost his friend.

"Of course I'm here," Bis said slightly shocked, though he disregarded his curiousity for the moment, continuing on with what he had been meaning to say. "Our men have surrounded Alamut's palace. Battle's over," Bis said with serenity in his voice.

Dastan shook his head. "Not yet." Dastan turned around and began running, already knowing where to go.

As he ran, he contemplated what had happened. He had pressed the jewel button, so he would know what had happened.

For a moment, he stopped running, a new thought striking his mind. Would Tamina remember? Would she remember what they had shared in thier long and tedious journey. Or would she be a new Tamina?

Right now, he so desperately wanted to see her, to know what had happened to her, to know that she alright and that she was alive and breathing and well. But now, he knew that he needed to sacrifice that time with her. He needed to finally solve what needed to be solved. He wanted this whole scheme to be out and away with in his life. His father was still alive, which meant that Nizam was still plotting how to get rid of him.

He continued running, his strides long and powerful, the fanfare coming into his ears; and he knew that now, Nizam, Garsiv, and Tus would all be riding down the line, getting praises for their might leading and such. Now was not the time.

Dastan finally came into the packed stadium, the crowds around him predictably cheering loudly for thier leaders, Dastan getting several pats on the back along his run. "Wait!" he yelled, catching his uncle's attention, he noticed. "Wait," he called out again, the fanfare stopping, and the parade pausing in the middle of the street.

He began climbing the stairs, gasping for air as he practically crawled amongst all of the Persians who never stopped touching him. He pushed them aside angrily, climing up the stairs faster and continuously saying, "Wait, wait, wait."

Once Dastan reached a suitable spot in the middle of the stairs, he turned to the people surrounding him, and the Persians immediately formed a circle of respect around him. "Brave soldiers of Persia," he shouted, everyone now staring at him with intent and loyal eyes. "we have been deceived into attacking this holy city! Alamut has no weapon forges!" he exclaimed.

By now, his brothers and uncle had finally come up to him, staring at him with confusion and wariness. "Dastan!" Tus hissed under his breath, as if he was embarrassed of what was happening. He cast quick looks to the side before continuing with, "Have you gone mad?" Dastan watched as Nizam began taking the stage as well, patting Tus' shoulder in a comforting way while having his personal troops come up to stand with him, making Tus give him a strange look.

Dastan disregarded the lack of faith and continued, knowing that he would be silenced soon enough if he gave away too much information for Nizam's liking. "I cannot stand silent in the face of treachery. This was was set up by one trusted above all else, our Uncle Nizam."

Nizam circled Dastan, giving him a challenging look as if daring him to continue telling everyone the rest of the story. So, as Dastan had suspected, Nizam quickly began pushing Dastan away from the center of attention. "Dastan has fought hard today, perhaps too hard!" he explained to the people who were eagerly listening to every word. Dastan looked at Nizam confusedly for a moment before finally looking smug. "What he needs now is to get out from under this burning sun to rest, gather his wits," he said in a funny tone and gesturing with his hands. The crowd dutifully laughed at the small joke whille the two other princes merely smiled.

However, the Lion of Persia would never give up. He knew that he needed to end this. "The weapons we found are forgeries!" Dastan yelled to the people, mainly to Tus though, making sure that he was listening, and he most definitely was. He turned back to Nizam and pointed a finger at him accusingly. "there are no weapons here, Uncle, and you know it! And the spy who supposedly interceted them was hired by you." He pointed again further at Nizam who was smiling smugly at him, as if making it all out of a joke. "to persuade all of us to invade Alamut!" Dastan yelled to the people, hushed murmurs now spreading through the crowd like wildfire.

"What is this, Dastan? Victor's remorse? You yourself lead the attack, brought us this great triumph!" he said, the crowds again cheering.

"I should never have let the attack happen," Dastan said calmly, now fully grabbing the attention of Tus. Dastan turned back to his eldest brother, staring him peacefully in the eye. "I knew in my heart that it was wrong."

Tus began slowly walking up the steps to meet Dastan, though the young prince turned once more back to his uncle putting his face only inches from his uncle's. Nizam, naturally retaliated and looked away for a moment, but Dastan didn't pay any notice. "It will never be you. You will never be King. You don't have the heart. You will die in the shadow of a great man," he said, not blinking once. Nizam glared at Dastan and even grabbed the hilt of his sword, but once Dastan cast a glance down at his hand, Nizam pulled it away and held his hands in the air for the entire Persian crowd to see.

"Get him down from there before he makes an even bigger fool of himself!" he heard Garsiv yell, but before the soldiers could converge on him, Dastan turned back around to face Tus who looked very perplexed. What was going on?

"Tus! Before you left Nasaf, Father told you this, a true king considers the advice of counsel, but always listens to his own heart," Dastan said told him, eager for him brother to believe him once more. It was so easy to see that Nizam was a tyrant. All he had to do was look.

Tus looked at him for a minute, his eyes squinting in even more confusion. "Father and I were alone. How could you know that?"

Dastan shook his head at that trivial piece of knowledge, only continuing. "He was right. He knows us; he knows what we're capable of. Just listen to your heart."

Nizam came to stand up next to the two brothers, his words sounding like a snake's, Dastan thought sourly, though he did not comment. "He defies your order in the attack and now wants to turn back. Tus! Take measure here!" he said, and Dastan nodded in agreement.

For a moment, Tus looked back and forth between the two members of his family. Never before did he think that he would ever have to make such a decision, but now, he was beginning to realize that these were the decisions that a kind would have to make. "

Tus looked back and forth between his brother's and uncle's eyes, trying desperately to see truth in one of them and lies in the other. But how would that make it any easier? In any case, one of the people that he had spent his entire life with was lying to him right now. He did not want to have to make this decision. "The spy knows the truth," he finally uttered. "Find the spy! Bring him to me! We'll wring it from him!" he yelled to audience, turning away and walking back down the stairs.

Dastan nodded in approval, finally looking at his uncle challengingly. Nizam looked worried, wheels turning endlessly in his conniving mind to come up with a solution that would best serve him. The selfish bastard.

The youngest prince then turned away, beginning to walk back down the stairs and away from his uncle, though that was not satisfying enough.

Nizam drew his sword, and rapidly, Dastan turned around, ready to finally meet Nizam. He unsheathed his own sword faster and moved away from his uncle's striking blade. His uncle's guards also moved in on the attack, making it a three on one spar.

One went to stab for the gut, but Dastan quickly turned the weapon away from him, and pivotted around to meet the other guard, striking sideways and slicing the guard along the chest, killing him. He watched the man fall for a moment, then twisted his sword around in his hand and drove it backward, feeling the warm flesh and blood envelop his blade. He heard a faint thump as the man behind him fell, leaving him only with Nizam now.

Dastan blocked the downward strike, ducked down for a slice, and jumped backwards for when both of his uncle's swords sliced through the air at him simultaneously. Dastan was now up against the railing of the stairs, and he blocked two more hits before taking a risk. He dropped both of his swords, and on the next attack, he grabbed Nizam's wrists and threw him over the railing, hearing the louder thud. He quickly climbed up the banister and jumped down to meet his coughing uncle there.

The prince stood there for a moment, shaking his head disapprovingly down at his uncle. He bent over then and pressed his hand against his chest, enthusing more coughing and spluttering. "You had what every man could ever dream of: love, respect, and family. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?" he snarled. He spit at the ground in disgust, then stood and began walking towards his brothers.

When he saw Tus charge towards Nizam, Dastan's head whipped around and saw Tus drive his own blade into Nizam's stomach, making the old man seethe and splutter for a moment before finally falling backwards, holding onto the blade, and dying there.

Dastan sympathized with his brother. Tus knew nothing of the things that that man had done, and without hesitation, he saved his brother, only looking at the body for a brief moment. Dastan rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. This must have been really difficult for him to understand, for everyone to understand. Garsiv's hand quickly joined Dastan's on Tus' other shoulder, and soon, the three brothers were walking away from their dead uncle, the crowds around them cheering explicitly.

* * *

**We all know what this means, right? One more chapter left! AAAH! So sad! But we will live. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, and the next update should be Saturday (warning: the last chapter is probably going to be a little short, I'm thinking 2000 words tops. So consider this chapter as you big one for the week, alright?), and remember to leave an idea for the sequel if you have one you'd like to share. :)**

**Love you all lots!**

** - Books**


	18. All the Time in the World

****

***takes out a hanky* I can't believe this! *sobs madly and blows nose violently* This is the last chapter of this story! Wow! We have come so far, you guys, and I applaud you all for not giving up on me at all. It takes a lot in me not to cry when I think that this is the last chapter. I have to keep telling myself that there is going to be a sequel to all of this, and it is going to be okay. Without that little reminder every once in a while, I am telling you, I wouldn't have made it this far. I probably would've stopped updating just so I could say that it wasn't done yet. But that wouldn't be fair to you guys, so I didn't do that. :) Be grateful! hehe..**

And speaking of said sequel, I am still taking ideas for it. I know that it seems like a hassle, but I really do wanna hear what you guys are thinking about. I seem to recall telling you guys that this story is for you, so I am going to let you guys run it. I want your opinion on what you think should happen. It makes the story so much better in my opinion. :)

Also, guess what? This final chapter is completely FANFICC'D! Isn't that exciting! I think it's pretty exciting. :)

And finally, I would like to say that since this is the very last chater of this particular story, I would like to go out with a bang. With a big bang. I know that you guys have mad skills as far as reviewing goes; most people are lucky if they get one or two per chapter. This obviously means that you guys are some of the best reviewers in the entire world. (How does that title make ya feel?) Two chapters ago when I left that huge cliffhanger, I got 13 reviews, and true to my word, I updated on my other update day, Wednesday. However, if you guys exceed ten reviews, not 13, just ten, I will not update on Wednesday, but I will post the newest story on MONDAY! Yes, you read right. MON-DAY! So please, please, please review. I won't be able to update on any other day next week because I have testing, so, make it count! :)

Dastan stood with Tus in Alamut's marketplace, staring up at the stoic palace, looking through all of the outdoor walkways, praying that he would even just catch a glimpse of Tamina.

And now...onto the last chapter...Sorry for the long AN...

* * *

She wouldn't remember him. She couldn't. She didn't unerstand the turmoil that he was going through. And now, now he had learned that there was a high possibility that his brother, Tus, was going to marry her.

Dastan didn't know if he could take that. He loved his brother, and he would forever respect his brother's decisions, but to watch his brother marry the woman that he was in love with was something that just seemed impossible for him to do. Tamina wouldn't know; she wouldn't object. She didn't remember the past that she had with Dastan, and she wouldn't know the terrible heart ache that she was going to cause him to feel.

Tus lounged by the side of the road, eating a golden apple noisily, though the Dastan wasn't paying any attention. He was only staring up at that palace, wishing to see her - the woman he had once wanted to kill and now the woman that he would do anything for, even die if she needed him to. He would do anything if it meant that she would smile at him. He would even surrender his monarch title and become her court entertainer if it meant that he would get to hear her laugh at him.

"I wonder if the Princess truly is beautiful," Tus mused with his mouth full of apple. Garsiv sat next to his older brother, cleaning his sword with admiration. Dastan simply continued to stare at the palace.

"She is the most beautiful thing that any man would ever be able to set her eyes on," Dastan said lowly, both of his brothers now looking at him curiously. "One look at her perfectly contoured face would drive any man to drink."

"Little brother, how many stories have you read about this Princess?" Garsiv asked cheekily, making Tus smile.

Dastan shook his head, annoyed with his brother's response, though he could not blame him. Neither of his brothers knew what he had gone through with that Princess. None of them knew just how hard he had truly fallen for her. She didn't even know. And now, if she was going to marry his brother, he would never get that chance to tell her how deep his feelings really ran for her.

"I have read not a one book on the Princess," Dastan replied defensively, coming down to sit with Tus.

"Dastan, her beauty is only proclaimed to be as such," Tus explained. "She probably isn't beautiful at all. At least not as beautiful as Kasha," Tus said kindly, thinking of one of his wives.

True, Kasha was blessed in the area of beauty, her hair golden and reaching down to the small of her back. Kasha had almond shaped gray eyes which were always turned into a smile. Yes, she was beautiful, Dastan thought, but she was not Tamina.

Tamina was darker and much more hardened to the world, knowing the potential of men's greed and evil. She was highly intelligent, unlike Kasha who avoided political matter at all costs, along with anything that involved legitamate thinking. Tus only married her because of her beauty, never truly planning to make her the queen.

The Princess of Alamut had a darker past, one that was filled with duty and responsibilty. Tamina had never been taught to love the joys of life. She was taught the same rules as her ancestors and was given no time to simply be whoever she wanted to be. Her title and Guardian position would never allow her that privilege.

Dastan shook his head, looking at Tus. "Even Kasha's hair cannot compare to just the soft hands of Tamina. Tamina is the most beautiful woman who has ever lived," he said proudly, giving a small smile.

Tus stopped chewing his apple and looked curiously at Dastan who was again looking the palace walls appreciatively. "How would you know that, Dastan? You have never met the Princess, you have never seen the Princess, how can you promise such thing as easily as you do?" Tus asked.

The youngest brother merely shrugged, never looking away from the palace.

Tus glanced at Garsiv who was looking highly confused as well. "It seems as if Love has bewitched the eyes of our little brother before he even has laid his eyes on the Princess. Perhaps then, Dastan, you should marry the Princess, if you should think you know her best," Garsiv observed, making Dastan whip his head around and look at his brother.

"I thought it was to be Tus who was to marry her," Dastan probed.

Tus shrugged. "I don't have enough time for the wives I have. And you have yet to take even just one wife. And Garsiv has even more wives than I do - how many do you have Garsiv?" Tus asked curiously, and Garsiv opened his mouth to give the answer, but then stopped, thinking carefully. When Dastan looked back at his brother, Garsiv's hands were stretched out, and he was counting his fingers in concentration. "Yes, Dastan, I think that you should be the one to marry her. One of us needs to marry her - unbound to Persia, she could be a great liability, and father is already upset enough as it is with us invading thic city as we have. So, it should be you, little brother, to marry her, since your heart already seems set on her."

Dastan smiled gleefully and stood, turning to the palace.

"We should go in," the prince said excitedly.

Garsiv finally looked up at Tus and snobbishly told him he had eight wives; he then turned to Dastan and laughed at the youngest brother's expression. "Dastan it's customary to accompany a proposal with gifts. You cannot go in there without something appropriate to present her."

"Plus, her priests are saying that she has gone missing, and no one can find her. So even if you do have a gift, and I highly doubt that you do, it would do no good. She needs to accept the proposal for it to be an engagement, as I am sure you know. That is why we have yet to go in. We are waiting for the Princess of Alamut to return to her palace. And then we can go in and have you propose," Tus explained further, taking a large bite out of his apple with a satisfying crunch.

"Missing?" Dastan asked, his tone now slightly worried. "Are they looking for her?"

"Dastan, she is the leader of the city, of course they are looking for her! She is just having difficulties being found is all. I am sure that she will come forth eventually. Apparently, she would refuse to abandon her city. Her soldiers have been saying that she is quite caring over her people and wouldn't leave them to us to rule over," Garsiv said with a little chuckle. "The little woman has probably run away. That is what women do when they are afraid of a situation. They run, and most don't even care to look back at what they have caused."

"You don't know Tamina," Dastan retorted harshly.

"And you do?"

"Better than you, yes."

"We've never met her! We haven't even caught a glimpse of her!" Garsiv yelled in aggravation. Dastan's shoulders slumped.

"You're right. But I am going to go and search for her." And with that, the Lion of Persia turned and walked into the crowds of Alamutians and Persians, searching everywhere for her. Where would she go?

With sudden inspiration, he began walking faster, approaching a sturdy sandy wall, one side facing the brutal sun while the other remainded cool from the shade its brother, the other side, provided.

Dastan knew this place. It had been here, just before Dastan had gone into the palace to meet his brother Tus. Tamina had told him that she thought that it was dangerous, and that she did not want him to go through with it. It was the last little banter they had had together before they had been torn apart.

While Amar had been rounding up the Persian guards, Tamina had told him that that spot was the least searched spot in Alamut, and it was one of the quietest, and it was also one of her favorite places to go to think and leave the world, if only for a few moments.

The prince walked up to the wall and took a deep breath. How would he speak with her? How would she react? What if she wasn't even there?

Dastan pushed those thoughts aside and surrmounted his courage and walked around it, being confronted with a sitting woman, thin and beautiful. Her face was buried in her knees, so he could not factually identify her to be Tamina, but he knew that she was. He recognized her small waist and the darkness of her cheeks, and the black depth of her hair that rested in front of her shoulders. Her hands wrapped around her strong calves, and he saw the star on the backs of her palms. It was his Tamina.

Tamina felt a presence there. Probably someone who was just surprised that their princess had veered into their part of the city. She was not in the richest part of Alamut, after all. She had always felt a connection with the poorer of the people. They were more hospitable than the rich snobs who only minded their gold and thier land. Even for a holy city, there were people who cared not for the needy in the world. Many of these helpless children were even orphaned, there parents abandoning them at young ages and leaving them to fend for themselves. It happened in every city, which made Tamina believe that maybe there was no such thing as a holy city. There was good and bad in all civilizations.

Dastan was orphaned. But Dastan had been adopted by the king of Persia, and the kind Persian king gave Dastan a family, just like he had always wanted. Perhaps one day, she would adopt one of these children.

When the person beside would not stop staring, she finally raised her head to look at the intruder of her space. When her brown eyes were affronted with Dastan, they widened in alarm, and she quickly stood up, looking at him anxiously. "Das-Dastan?" she whispered hoarsely.

The prince's eyes grew very large as she said his name. "You know me?" he asked unsurely, taking a step closer.

"You are the Lion of Persia," she responded gently.

Dastan sighed. "Is that all you know me by, Princess?" he asked solemnly.

"I know of Nizam and his treacheries. I know that he had plotted to kill your father," she said insecurely.

The prince shook his head. "He did not succeed," he told her.

Tamina bit her lip for a moment before replying hesitantly, "Not in this life."

Dastan looked rapidly up at her, staring at her deeply. "How do you mean, Princess?"

"He killed your father. Your brothers. He wanted to travel back to a time when he made his only heroic act, and take it away. He was greedy for power, your uncle. He killed everyone he had proclaimed to love only to get what he had wanted. He had killed me. But you did what you had to. You protected the world from his evil. You saved everyone, your friend, your father, your brothers, me. Dastan you fufilled your destiny!" she said, coming closely up to him.

Dastan stared at her intensely. "You remember?" he asked hoarsely reaching up to touch her cheek, smiling when she did not pull away.

She nodded. "I do not know how, but I remember. I remember all of it."

The prince's smile grew even more, and before he could control himself, he kissed her, more thoroughly this time, knowing that now, they had all the time in the world, and there was going to be nothing that was going to stop them from doing whatever they wanted. There was no threats on Dastan's family, or on the world. It was just the two of them, and that was all that mattered.

After a moment, they pulled away, Tamina's face glowing. "I love you, Dastan," she whispered against his lips.

"As I love you," he responded in kind. "I have something that I would like to ask of you," he said nervously.

"And what might that be, Prince?" she asked mischievously as she had always done.

"Tus and Garsiv are worried about you. They are frightened that you might retaliate for what has been done here today. They want to have you married," he began, searching for the right words.

Tamina's eyebrows rose in interest. "And to whom do they want me married to?" she asked.

Dastan smiled sheepishly and blushed. "After a little persuasion, they think it best that you marry me, seeing as I am wifeless, and since I love you the most. Though they do not know that part of the bargain. I had to make them think that I was completely taken with you."

She snorted in an unroyal like manner. "And how did you manage to do that?"

"Your beauty. Your intelligence," he said completely serious, making her feel guilty for laughing at him. He had proven to his brothers that he wanted her the most out of all of them, and the fact that anyone would want to fight for her made her feel like she was the most important thing in the world, and with Dastan, she always felt like that. "I couldn't bear the thought of one of my brothers marrying you instead of me. It would kill me. And I had thought that you wouldn't remember what we had had. That you wouldn't put up a fight when Tus asked to marry you. I couldn't let that happen. I was prepared to win you all over again, just as long as _I _got to win you. I know it sounds selfish, but I just couldn't do that for my brothers. I knew that you wouldn't be as well loved by them as you would be at my side since they have so many other women for themselves. You are the only one for me, and I had decided that if I was not to have you, I would have no one. Even now, when I am given this opportunity to marry you, you are still going to be the only one. Unlike my brothers, I will be. I do not want five wives for myself." He paused and cupped both of her cheeks. "I just want you," he said simply.

Tamina looked up at him and really thought that she was going to cry. Never before had she felt so loved. Dastan had made her feel so incredible, and she knew that she was never going to feel that way with anyone else.

She nodded. "I will marry you," she said with a large smile plastered on her tan face. Dastan smiled even more and wrapped his arms around her middle and held her close, picking her up and spinning her in circles, making her cling tighter to him and laugh loudly at the game.

He set her back down and kissed her hand. "I have something for you. It's a wedding gift of sorts. See, in Persia, it is tradition that whenever men propose, they offer something for the possible bride. I didn't buy you anything because you are a Princess already and have everything." He winked, then turned slightly serious. He bent down on one knee and stood before her, holding both of her hands with just one of his own. His other hands searched underneath his robe before producing the dagger. "It's yours," he said, holding the dagger out to her.

Tamina's eyes widened as she saw the dagger. "I had forgotten about it in all of the excitement," she said sheepishly, making him laugh. "Thank you, Dastan. You don't know how much this means to me." She gingerly took the dagger from his hand and gently pulled him to his feet. "But I don't think that we are going to need to worry about it anymore," she said happily.

"I can only pray that we be that lucky," he said chuckling.

Tamina smiled and stroked his cheek tenderly. "Just as long as you are by my side, all shall be well for me."

"We have all the time in the world," Dastan replied and kissed her with joy filling both of their hearts.

* * *

**WHAAAA! It's done! I can't believe this! (I know that I said that earlier but bear with me!) **

**Alright, so remember, the sooner ten (JUST TEN) of you review, the sooner the new story gets posted! So please review so that I don't go into a nervous break down and/or go into a depression. **

**I would liek to say thanks to all of my reviewers; I wish I could list you all here in this AN, but there are too many of you! You guys have kept me going on this story and have made me feel like a million bucks whenever I see a review in my inbox. You guys make me the happiest person on the earth. This is not a lie. Dead serious. And I want you guys to know that you all are the best reviewers in the entire world. Other authors may claim they have the best, but I could not have been blessed with a better reviewing audience.**

**Can't wait to see you guys in the sequel! Hopefully all of you!**

**LOVE YOU ALL LOTS! AND I REALLY LOVE YOU ALL!**

**- Books **


	19. Just an FYI AN

**Okay, I know I'm not supposed to do this, however I came to the realization that if you haven't put me on an author's alert list, you might unaware that I have indeed posted the sequel. So, I am here to tell you all that I have posted the sequel, and it isn't necessary to put me on your author's alert list if you really don't want to. I am not offended at all. J So, anyway, the new story is coincidentally titled "Alamutian Empire." Pretty clever right? Well, I think it is. No reviews are expected in this little update. Just to inform you guys.**

**Thanks again for being so amazing!**

**Love you all lots! (as always)**

**- Books**


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